Generic Anime: Chrono Trigger Style!
by Rhianwen
Summary: [Chapter 9 uploaded!] Anime cliches (particularly good red-haired girl vs. evil purple-haired girl) abound as Lucca spontaneously decides, with Magus' help, to turn to evil and Marle must stop her. Total silliness with a side-dish of fluffy romance.
1. The Destiny of Purple Hair

Generic Anime: Chrono Trigger Style!  
  
By: Rhianwen, a.k.a. Yezo the Yellow Priest  
  
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Category: Chrono Trigger  
  
Genre: Humor/Parody  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
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Disclaimer: I don't own any of these people, or the concept of the generic anime. Believe me, I did not invent Good Red-Haired Girl vs. Evil Purple- Haired Girl. ^_^ For a terrific example, go watch Project: A-ko or Dragonhalf. This will probably draw heavily on the latter for influence. Just so you know, the creator of Dragonhalf was arrested after creating it, for drug possession. I suppose you can guess that it's my kind of anime. ^_^  
  
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Summary: I believe 'good red-haired girl vs. evil purple-haired girl, with a side-dish of silly romance' says it all. Pairings are Crono/Marle and either Lucca/Frog or Lucca/Magus. I need opinions on this! So far the vote is leaning toward Lucca/Magus, but I'm open to writing either. Should I be hopelessly predictable, or should I expand my horizons a little? ^_^  
  
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Notes: This is all just in good fun, after watching one too many animes that followed an identical formula. I don't really believe Lucca to be a super-villain, hell-bent on the destruction of everything and a devoted trainee of Magus, and I don't really believe Marle to be the planet's last hope to stop her. Ye gad, could you imagine? ^_^  
  
Oh, and for my intents and purposes in this piece, Marle's red-blonde hair will be relentlessly referred to as red in order to maintain the solidarity of Good Red-Haired Girl vs. Evil Purple-Haired Girl.  
  
Well, here we go. Deep down into the pit of dark insanity that is Rhianwen's mind. Yaay!  
  
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"La la la la la la la," Lucca was humming absently to herself one evening as she sat on the cliffs surrounding her home, watching the waves crash far below. For you see, five minutes before the story began, all characterization had flown neatly out the window and has last been spotted somewhere over Delaware.  
  
At any rate, Lucca did not miss it, as she was perfectly content hugging her knees to her chest and humming away in a manner that totally violated the now-gone characterization.  
  
All in all, a beautiful and peaceful night.  
  
"Hold on," Lucca muttered to herself, suspicion setting in like a cold fog creeping over her, "aren't these the kinds of evenings that are always spoiled by some ghastly threat to the continuation of life on the planet?"  
  
As if on cue, a voice rang out behind her.  
  
"Good evening, Lucca."  
  
Lucca whirled about, pausing briefly to first spring to her feet, and stared at the source of the voice in disbelief.  
  
"Magus?!"  
  
"The very same," the blue-haired man replied, smirking nastily at her in the pale moonlight.  
  
She crossed her arms, shaking her head and snickering.  
  
"YOU'RE the new ultimate threat to the planet?"  
  
He scowled, also crossing his arms.  
  
"And just why exactly is that so funny?"  
  
She shook her head.  
  
"Never mind. So, you're back in the Evil Villain business, are you? I can't say I'm surprised. You never were exactly Mr. Upstanding Citizen."  
  
"If you're quite finished," he began stonily, "I'd like to continue."  
  
"By all means," she urged him cheerfully.  
  
"Thank-you. The new threat to the planet is not me-"  
  
"So, there IS a new threat!"  
  
"Do you mind?!"  
  
"Sorry, sorry, go on."  
  
"As I was saying, it is you, not I, who shall be the new enemy of the planet."  
  
She stared at him incredulously, even going so far as to remove and polish her glasses to be sure that she was not hearing things...or something like that. Hey, what do you expect? I just read the narration that Rhianwen gives me, and we ALL know of the multitude of things wrong with Rhianwen.  
  
"Hey!" Rhianwen shouted from the sky in fury.  
  
Yes?  
  
"You suck, narration!"  
  
No, YOU suck.  
  
"No, YOU suck!"  
  
No, you suck.  
  
"I hate you! You smell funny!"  
  
Oh. I smell funny. How tragic, Look, will you just shut up and keep writing the story?  
  
"Fine," Rhianwen huffed, finally falling silent.  
  
Magus and Lucca both stared up at the sky, blinking in confusion. Then Lucca turned her attention back to Magus.  
  
"Hey, what were we talking about?"  
  
Magus rolled his eyes.  
  
"You have the attention span of a moth."  
  
"No, I don't!" Lucca exclaimed, quite offended.  
  
"I see," Magus said dryly. "Shall we try and experiment?"  
  
Lucca shrugged.  
  
"If it doesn't involve weasels wearing my pants, I'm fine with it."  
  
Magus blinked.  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Never mind," she replied sheepishly. "Let's just say that Crono's gonna bring that one up at my wedding. Anyway, what's your experiment?"  
  
Smirking, the warlock reached into his cape and withdrew his secret weapon.  
  
"A BOOK!" Lucca exclaimed. "Gimme!"  
  
"But we had something to discuss," he reminded her mildly, holding the book just out of her reach and inwardly cackling as she attempted to jump for it.  
  
"But I want the book," she whimpered.  
  
"You can have the book after I finish explaining the plot," Magus told her firmly.  
  
She eyed him suspiciously.  
  
"Promise?"  
  
"Yes, I promise."  
  
"Fine, then. Now...what were we talking about?"  
  
"The fact that you are the new threat to the planet," he reminded her, biting back a grumble.  
  
"Right," she laughed. "Sure. Hey, are you drunk, Magus? Do you need a shove off these cliffs into the water to sober you up?"  
  
"You think I'm in jest," he noted, amused. "No, Lucca, I am deadly serious. I have seen in you the potential since we first met."  
  
"Oh, right! When Crono and Frog and I kicked your ass!"  
  
"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," he said airily.  
  
"You just did," she reminded him, grinning.  
  
"Shut up and let me finish my dramatic speech, will you? I want to have this done by 10:30 so I can be home by 11:00."  
  
"What happens at 11:00?"  
  
"Well...my show is on TV," he replied carefully.  
  
"Anachronism," she reminded him lightly.  
  
He scoffed.  
  
"Lucca, you have a gun that you purchased in 65 000 000 B.C. I would say that anachronism no longer applies in this game."  
  
"Game?" she echoed, scratching her head.  
  
"Er, I mean, in our journeys. Now, as I was saying...dammit! What WAS I saying?"  
  
"NOW who has a short attention span?" she gloated. "Can I have my book now?"  
  
"No! I was saying something!"  
  
She sighed, eyes wide and melancholy.  
  
"You were saying that you've seen my potential to be an evil villain since we first met."  
  
"Oh, right, right. As is evidenced by a certain outward symbol. Can you guess what that symbol is, Lucca?"  
  
"Uh...no?"  
  
"Your hair."  
  
"My hair."  
  
"Yes. There are other signs, of course, but it was your purple hair that first made me look further into the matter, particularly after noting that you were part of every three-man magical technique that I and my shadow- magic were."  
  
"Further into what matter?" she demanded uncomfortably.  
  
"The matter of your heritage. Your destiny."  
  
"Which is...to be an evil villain."  
  
"Yes!"  
  
Lucca was silent for several moments, turning the matter over in her mind.  
  
"Well?" Magus finally prompted impatiently.  
  
The young woman looked up at him, her mind made up.  
  
"Can I have my book now?"  
  
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"Isn't it a beautiful night, Crono?" Marle sighed happily, leaning slightly forward over the balcony of their room in Guardia Palace.  
  
Crono nodded enthusiastically, his eye drawn downward to her cleavage, nicely enhanced by the act of leaning forward.  
  
"I could just stay out here forever, couldn't you?"  
  
He nodded again, snaking one arm around her waist and smiling fondly as she snuggled into the embrace. Then, just as he opened his mouth to suggest that they go in and get something to drink, a flash of light made both of them recoil, raising their arms to shield their eyes.  
  
From the centre of the burst of light emerged two small creatures, walking on all fours and covered with fur, one grey and one white.  
  
"Oh! Kitties!" Marle chirped, starting forward.  
  
Crono restrained her with an arm, shaking his head warningly.  
  
"Greetings, Marle, Princess of Guardia," the white cat greeted in a sweet, rather shy voice as she wrapped her leg around her neck.  
  
"Uh, hi," she returned brightly.  
  
Crono crossed his arms and looked away, slightly miffed at being ignored.  
  
"And hello, Crono, Prince Consort of Guardia," the grey cat hurried to add in a grand and dramatic voice.  
  
The redhead smiled, satisfied, and stepped forward, preparing to speak.  
  
Before he could, however, the grey cat hurried on, interrupting him.  
  
"We are here to discuss with you a matter of the utmost seriousness."  
  
"And who is 'we', exactly?" Marle asked suspiciously.  
  
"I am Munkustrap," the grey cat informed her.  
  
"And I am Victoria," the white cat, much smaller than the grey, added, standing up on two legs, and then lifting one leg until it pressed tightly against her ear.  
  
"Uh...right," Marle said, shooting Crono a questioning look.  
  
He shrugged, as though to say that he had no idea who they were or what they were doing here...or what the gymnastics were all about.  
  
"I suppose you must be wondering who we are and what we're doing here," Munkustrap laughed sheepishly.  
  
"Now that you mention it..." Marle began.  
  
"We are of a very special tribe of cats known as the Jellicles, and we are here to deliver you a message. The world is in grave danger, Marle, and you are the only one who can save the planet."  
  
"Wh-what?!" Marle exclaimed, her ponytail standing up on end at the shock of this revelation.  
  
"Just as I say," Munkustrap replied grimly. "This world is in serious danger, and it will be up to you to save it."  
  
Once again, Crono looked hurt, and turned away, crossing his arms.  
  
"With the help of Crono here," Munkustrap hurried to add, rolling his eyes and wondering what on earth had turned this boy into such a Prima Donna.  
  
Crono nodded in satisfaction as Marle began to speak in a worried rush.  
  
"What do we do, Crono? Do you think it has anything to do with Lavos again? Do you think we should try to find everyone?"  
  
Crono opened his mouth as if to speak, but was interrupted as Marle hurried on.  
  
"No, you're probably right. Frog probably won't come, and Magus definitely won't. And Ayla's tribe probably needs her. But we might be able to get Robo. And we've definitely gotta talk to Lucca first thing tomorrow morning!"  
  
At the mention of the young inventor's name, Munkustrap winced. He leaned over.  
  
"Do you think we should tell them?" he murmured to Victoria.  
  
"Oh, dear," Victoria sighed, assuming another ridiculously body-twisting pose just for good measure. "I don't know."  
  
"Hey, Victoria, Munkustrap," Marle began, frowning, "what exactly are the Jellicles?"  
  
"Well, it's really quite simple," Munkustrap replied. "But perhaps it is best explained this way."  
  
And with that, both Munkustrap and Victoria launched into a four-minute chant involving the naming of a cat.  
  
Crono shook his head, frowning in bewildered confusion.  
  
Marle, however, brightened.  
  
"Oh! Okay, I get it now. Hey, who wants a snack?"  
  
"Do you have salmon pate?" Munkustrap asked suspiciously.  
  
"Yup!"  
  
"Hot diggity!"  
  
"Munkustrap," Victoria murmured to him. "Characterization."  
  
Munkustrap blushed sheepishly as Marle led both cats inside.  
  
Crono lingered on the balcony a moment, crossing his arms and pouting.  
  
"I never get to talk..."  
  
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End Notes: Hee! Ooh, this is going to be FUN! Well, for me, at any rate. Anyway, do you think I should continue? I mean, I probably will whether you tell me to or not, but I'd still like some feedback. And speaking of feedback, please give me your opinion on the pairing! Lucca/Frog or Lucca/Magus? I've got a couple of opinions, and I'm going to go with a majority vote...or whatever I feel like at the time. ^_^  
  
Thanks! 


	2. Dressing for Succes: That Elusive Air of...

Chapter 2  
  
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Notes: Well! I suppose Magus/Lucca it is. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter, and for your opinions. They were very helpful. I think that only an inspiration for an absolutely perfect Frog/Lucca scene could change it now (or if I decide that I really like the name-crunchie of 'Log' ^_^).  
  
Oh, and before I forget again, I didn't mention this in the first disclaimer, but I don't own the Jellicles, who kind of elbowed themselves into the story whether or not I wanted them there. They are owned by T.S. Elliot, I think, and to some extent, Andrew Lloyd Webber, who chose to write a musical about them. Well, about the poems by Elliot, at any rate.  
  
Anyway, the point is that I don't own them, and I'm glad. I would hate to be known as the person who came up with the concept of having grown men and women put on spandex, six pounds of face paint, tails, and then wrap their legs around their heads.  
  
That, I believe, would make me even sicker than I already am. ^_^  
  
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The following evening at exactly 6:58, not a moment sooner or later, Lucca let the heavy iron knocker fall back into place onto the front door of Magus' evil fortress. As a deafening boom rang out through the air, she clutched the book in her left arm and the bag of Cheezies in her right more tightly, wondering, not for the first time, if this was such a good idea.  
  
Sure, she'd been very, very bored recently, and it had been an awfully nice book that Magus had given her - 'How to Become an Evil Villain: 12-Step Program' - but was turning against everything good and decent in the world really the way to deal with it? If she did this, she would be required to fight against Crono and Marle. After all, Crono had become rather addicted to heroism since their defeat of Lavos, and had since been able to sniff out an evil villain, and the opportunity to show of his swordsmanship, from miles away. Was this really what she wanted: to fight against her best friend? Wouldn't it be better to start an orphanage, or something else all human-interesty like that?  
  
Just as she was about to turn away to go home and give the matter more thought, the door swung open.  
  
"Hello, Lucca," Magus greeted, smirking down at her. Ah, hadn't he known that she would come!  
  
"H-hey, Magus," she replied, bidding her chance at freedom a sad farewell. "I brought your book back."  
  
"Oh, that was a gift to you. I think you might be able to make good use of it."  
  
"Oh! Well, thanks. Although, there are a few things I disagree with in here. Like, why is it necessary to explain your nefarious scheme to your enemies BEFORE destroying them?"  
  
"Well, because after you destroy them, they're dead," he replied patiently. "And they can't seethe silently and bitterly at your brilliance and their failure if they're dead."  
  
"Alright. I guess that makes sense," she shrugged as he stepped aside to let her in.  
  
"We can discuss the rest of the book later, if you'd like," he called over his shoulder as he led her down a dimly lit corridor. "For now, though, we have a big task ahead of us: planning your career."  
  
"My...career. Isn't it just to be evil?"  
  
"Lucca, Lucca, Lucca," he sighed sadly. "There is SO much more to it than 'to be evil.' First, you need motivation. Do you have motivation?"  
  
"Because you told me to," she replied immediately. "And you bribed me with a book."  
  
Magus sighed, coming to a halt in the dimly lit hallway.  
  
"You see? We have a lot of work to do."  
  
"A really, really cool book."  
  
"A LOT of work."  
  
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"Any luck yet, Crono?" Marle demanded, striding into his study, or, as he had taken to calling it, his 'Secret Hero Lair.'  
  
Crono, his expression grave, stood up from behind the desk and began to answer, but was cut off my Marle, who rushed on.  
  
"This is so terrible! A new threat to the planet! And here we are, with no idea who it is!"  
  
Crono waved frantically, but Marle was oblivious.  
  
"I hate when this sort of thing happens! I keep trying to ask Munkustrap and Victoria, but Munkustrap just keeps looking scared and then telling me that 'friendship is nothing in the face of a struggle between good and evil,' and that I must 'put aside all such ties.' And as for Victoria, well, she just keeps batting the tassel on the end of the draperies!"  
  
Crono shook his head in despair.  
  
"You're right, Crono!" Marle proclaimed, striking a dramatic pose. "It doesn't matter who the villain is! If we are truly heroes, then we shall find the villain wherever he may lurk!"  
  
The young redheaded man looked quite offended. Recalling their last argument, and how long he had gone on and on about the topic, Marle hastened to correct her statement.  
  
"Wherever he or she may lurk," she amended sheepishly. After all, if Crono got talking again, she'd NEVER be able to shut him up! She'd never seen such a talkative man!  
  
Crono nodded, satisfied. Then he sighed. How to best make his radiant and lovely, but incredibly dense wife understand what he had recently found out? Suddenly, as a wig of purple hair styled in a chin-length bob caught his eye, a little light bulb appeared above his head.  
  
Darting across the room, he snatched up the wig, shoved it on his head, and began shooting at imaginary targets with an imaginary gun.  
  
Marle giggled.  
  
"Crono, you're so silly!"  
  
Crono gestured frantically. Marle frowned as she sank into a high-backed leather chair.  
  
"Wait a second...you're trying to tell me something, aren't you?"  
  
Nodding frantically, the young man redoubled his efforts to take down those darned imaginary monsters flying about.  
  
"Good idea, Crono! I'll send a message to Lucca right now about what's going on! I'm sure she'll want to be a hero again, too!"  
  
And with that, Marle leapt to her feet and bolted from the room, leaving Crono wearing a purple wig and looking rather foolish as a young custodian made his way into the room. Catching sight of the prince consort topped with a mop of purple, he stared for a moment in frightened awe, and then began to back away slowly, only to knock into the young Guardian queen, who chose just that moment to poke her head back into the room.  
  
"Oh, excuse me, Pierre," she beamed at the young man, who smiled bewilderedly back. "Crono, when I get back, we can start making plans, alright? Of course, we'll both need costumes. I think you'll look adorable in the spandex!"  
  
And so she disappeared from the room again, followed by the young custodian, Pierre, who reflected that he'd had quite enough of the insanity that life in Guardia Castle tended to be, and that he was going to see if the circus needed any extra help.  
  
At least he might get some sense of normalcy there!  
  
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"Magus, where do you find these places?" Lucca demanded, staring in bewilderment at the massive catalogue he had just dropped with a resounding thud onto the heavy oak table in front of her. "'Baddies: Today's Favourite Evil Villain Retailers,'" she read slowly.  
  
"The owner of the chain is a good friend of mine," Magus told her casually, glancing sideways to see if she were properly impressed. "I should be able to get a discount."  
  
"Well, that's something, at least," she grumbled.  
  
"Hey, even a five-percent discount on an acid vat costing ten thousand gold pieces regular price is going to save you five hundred gold pieces."  
  
"Ten thousand?!" she screeched. "Geez, Magus, how much do you think babysitting and mechanical repairs pay in Truce?"  
  
"And with those five hundred, you can buy an awfully sharp-looking evil villain costume," he rushed on, seeming not to have heard her.  
  
"Costume?" she repeated, voice low and ominous. "No one told me anything about a costume."  
  
Magus sighed and put an arm around her.  
  
"You skipped Chapter Seven, didn't you?"  
  
"What chapter was that?"  
  
"'Dressing For Success: That Elusive Air of Menace,'" he replied.  
  
"Oh, yeah. That looked boring," she said, wrinkling her nose and reaching for the large iron pot of Cheezies.  
  
"Well, then we'll just take some time out of the budgeting to discuss wardrobe," he told her inexorably.  
  
"But I don't wanna!" she whined.  
  
"A good first impression is important."  
  
"Can't I just do it with a speech or something?"  
  
"No! You have to dress properly!"  
  
"What's wrong with this?" she demanded, gesturing to her typical garb of black shorts, green sweatshirt, and orange smock.  
  
"That?" he scoffed, idly picking a Cheezie out of the pot and reaching for his goblet of Mountain Dew. "Where do I begin? First of all, aside from the fact that the colours clash horribly-"  
  
"Hey, I like green and orange!"  
  
"Green might be alright in touches, but orange is far too upbeat for an evil villainess. And not only that, the style just screams, 'cute brainy team-mate,'" he finished with a shudder.  
  
"I think it's sickening, the emphasis that people put on clothes," Lucca said airily, reaching for her own goblet, and then grimacing as she took a sip. "Where did you get this stuff, anyway?"  
  
"The fabled Market of Anachronism," he replied. "I picked that up for an awfully good price, too."  
  
She peered closely at the furry little creature seated on the mantle that he was gesturing to.  
  
"Uh...what is it?"  
  
"A little robotic dog," he said. "Its name is Mr. Woofy, and when you turn it on, it hops a little, barks, and does a back flip."  
  
"And I'm taking lessons from YOU on how to be menacing?" she sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose beneath her glasses.  
  
"Do not disparage my flippy-dog," he growled, gripping her collar and dragging her closer until they were nose-to-nose. Unfortunately, as he did so, her arm flew out as she gave a startled shriek, and knocked directly into his badly-placed goblet.  
  
"Oh, no! The magazine is getting all wet and sticky!" he moaned in despair, carefully picking the catalogue out of the puddle of Mountain Dew.  
  
"I'll clean it up," Lucca sighed, climbing to her feet and starting out of the room.  
  
"No, you sit down and start planning your evil hideout," Magus ordered, dragging her back to her chair and handing her the catalogue. "I'll clean it up."  
  
"Yeah; it WAS your fault, anyway," the inventor huffed.  
  
Magus beamed. Or rather, smiled slightly in faint satisfaction. Beaming by comparison with his ordinary expression.  
  
"Well, it's good to see that you absorbed something from my gift."  
  
"What do you mean?" she asked with a frown.  
  
"The art of blaming others for everything. Remember, Lucca, nothing is ever your fault when you're an evil villain. It's your parents' fault because they didn't hug you enough, or your schoolteacher's fault because he didn't let you be on the soccer team, or your schoolmates' fault because they made fun of you. In a pinch, you can simply blame the whole world because it never treated you fairly."  
  
Lucca blinked several times.  
  
"I just meant that this really was your fault. You grabbed me, after all."  
  
"It was not! It was my mother's fault for instilling psychotically violent tendencies in me at a young age!"  
  
"Uh...yeah. This book really is your bible, isn't it?"  
  
"And it will become yours," Magus announced grandly as he swept from the room.  
  
"Right," Lucca sighed as she flipped absently through the catalogue. "Somehow, I don't think this guy has all his oars in the water." Then she stopped and stared in disbelief at the page in front of her. "They're selling the RACK in here?!"  
  
"Always a good investment," Magus noted as he re-entered the room, nodding with approval. "Although, you have to make sure you don't settle for the old, rusty iron ones. They tend to stop working right at the breaking point, and although it is fun to hear your victim screaming out in prolonged agony, it's massively irritating to have to go searching for an oilcan. It just doesn't present a very professional last impression."  
  
"Magus..." Lucca began, shaking her head helplessly. "What happened to you? Have you always been like this?"  
  
"Like what?" Magus asked, honestly bewildered, as he approached the table and wiped up the spilled Mountain Dew before tossing the rag into the large stone fireplace.  
  
"Never mind," she sighed, rolling her eyes as a spark leapt up from the fireplace and caught on Mr. Woofy's fur, sending the small toy up in flames.  
  
"Ah, well," Magus shrugged, eyeing the charred remnants of the flippy-dog. "You win some, you lose some."  
  
"And I guess that's a crucial attitude to have when pursuing a career in evil villainy?" Lucca asked sarcastically.  
  
He nodded, smirking proudly.  
  
"You'll be a student worthy of my skill."  
  
Lucca raised an eyebrow.  
  
"I'm not sure whether that's a compliment or an insult..."  
  
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End Notes: Eheh...well, the conversation about the rack wasn't really supposed to happen, but I'm pretty proud of the rest of this chapter. And I think I'm probably just going to go with Magus/Lucca this story and save my Lucca/Frog urges for a different tale. ^_^ 


	3. Strapless Leather Bathing Suits and the ...

Chapter 3  
  
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Notes: Once again, the obligatory apology for taking so long to get this bit out. But at last, I am blessedly free! Exams are over! Essays are over! I can fritter time away on fan fiction again! Yaay! ^_^  
  
Well, see you at the end notes!  
  
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"So, what do you think?"  
  
Crono gave Marle a look that made it very clear that he didn't think much of the bright blue bodysuit with a white "C" emblazoned on the front, matched by a white utility belt, sword holster, and boots, and a cape of a darker blue.  
  
Marle's forehead creased in a frown of hurt.  
  
"Well, what's WRONG with it?!"  
  
Crono rolled his eyes and gestured frantically. Marle turned away huffily, crossing her arms.  
  
"I suppose you think it's "effeminate" or "showy," or something," she scoffed airily.  
  
Crono nodded, already moving to take off the cape and hurl it to the floor of their sleeping quarters.  
  
"Crono, it's a superhero costume! How is anyone going to know that you're a superhero if you don't dress like one?"  
  
With that, Crono produced from behind his back a t-shirt and slipped it on over the costume. Marle read the slogan, and giggled.  
  
"'Hi! I am a superhero,'" she read, shaking her head fondly. "Okay, so that gets the point across, but it's just not very...stylish. Now, take it off and put your cape back on. Our messenger came back last night and said that Lucca wasn't in, so I want to go see her and tell her what's happening."  
  
Crono shook his head emphatically, glaring balefully at the white cape balled up on the ground.  
  
"Crono, please put on the cape!"  
  
He shook his head more emphatically.  
  
"I'm wearing one, too," Marle pointed out, gesturing to her pink cape, draped gracefully over her shoulders, framing her tank top and hot pants of a paler pink, a large "M" of the darker pink emblazoned on the front. "See?"  
  
Crono nodded, eyeing the expanse of slim white leg displayed by the shorts, a smile stretching across his previously sullen countenance.  
  
"I'm glad you like it," she giggled. "Now, put on your cape so we can go!"  
  
The smile disappeared, and Crono crossed his arms and shook his head defiantly 'no.'  
  
"Crono!"  
  
No reply.  
  
"Crono, you got to design the super-secret superhero lair! We agreed that you would do the lair, and I would do the costumes!"  
  
The redhead uncrossed his arms, but didn't turn around.  
  
"You KNOW I'm right, Crono. It's only fair," Marle said, stooping to pick up his cape.  
  
With a sigh of defeat, he accepted the unoffending garment, glaring icily at it one last time before slipping it on.  
  
"Yaay! Thank-you!" Marle chirped, bouncing merrily up and down.  
  
Eyes trained on an especially bouncy part (or two) of his young wife, slightly below the neck, a thin trail of drool made its way from the corner of his mouth, and he felt quite as though slight humiliation was worth it to get such a reaction.  
  
Nonetheless, as they turned to leave the room, Crono muttered angrily to himself as he followed Marle,  
  
"I feel like the biggest idiot ever."  
  
------------------------------------------  
  
------------------------------------------  
  
"So, what do you think?"  
  
Lucca stared in horror at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the dressing room door. Gone were her typical and wonderfully comfortable black shorts, green shirt, and orange smock - Magus had even confiscated her helmet, the bastard! Instead, she was clad in what appeared to her to be a strapless bathing suit of black leather with a neckline that, although non- existent, still managed to be plunging, knee-high boots that added a rather unnecessary three inches in tapered heel to what she considered to be a perfectly reasonable five-foot-six. And as though this weren't enough humiliation, she reflected, glaring balefully at him in the mirror, Magus had insisted upon a cape. A long, hooded black cape, held on by a silver clasp decorated by a single purple stone, similar to the purple stone, also set in silver, decorating her black headband.  
  
"What do I think?!" she finally managed to sputter. "I think I look like an idiot!"  
  
Magus frowned, quite confused by this unexpected reaction.  
  
"What's wrong with it? It suits your purpose very well."  
  
"Who's going to respect and fear me dressed like THIS?" she demanded with a sweeping gesture.  
  
"It isn't about respect with a villainess," the warlock replied snippily. "The villainess has a special obligation to play the temptress and dress accordingly. She is the sort of woman that every man wants, but must resist, as she seeks only to corrupt and absorb. She does not hesitate to use her sexuality to get what she wants. It is this that makes her so dangerous. She is as irresistible as she is ruthless."  
  
"Are you done yet?" Lucca broke in.  
  
Magus nodded imperiously, awaiting the compliance to his unquestionable logic that would doubtlessly come from her.  
  
"Good," Lucca commented sweetly. "Because that is the STUPIDEST thing I've ever heard!"  
  
"What do you mean," Magus demanded. "It's the way of the world."  
  
"Magus," Lucca began wearily. "It's nine-thirty at night. These poor people- " She swept her hand about to indicate the sales assistants of The Rack, the official evil villain clothiers. "-want to close up and go home. I'm standing here, in front of a mirror, without pants! You have no idea what that's like. You're wearing pants, even if you're wearing underwear over top of them." She shook her head, as bewildered as ever by his typical clothing choice. Then, recalling that she had been trying to say something, she continued. "I'm tired, I'm cranky, I'm confused by this whole 'evil villain' thing. I just want to go home and pretend for a few hours that this whole thing was just a bad dream. And you blithely tell me to accept all this garbage because 'it's the way of the world'!"  
  
Magus sighed, defeated.  
  
"If I give you leather pants and a tube top, will you stop whining?"  
  
"Make it a full tank-top, and we have a deal," she replied immediately, all trace of weariness and whininess evaporating from her tone.  
  
"Fine," he grumbled. "Since you think you know best, we'll start you with black leather pants and top, with the cape, and you can learn for yourself that a woman must dress for sex appeal, to be taken seriously as an evil villain."  
  
"Hey, that's a corrupt system, and we should all do all we can do to try to change it," Lucca called from behind the door, already busily wriggling into a pair of leather pants Magus had shoved at her. Seconds later, the flimsy wood door opened, and the inventor emerged. "I like this better. It's a lot more practical."  
  
"Practical," Magus sniffed contemptuously. "You have no sense of style."  
  
"Hey, let's see YOU work on a brilliant and evil invention in a leather bathing suit, and see how well YOU fare!"  
  
As the image drifted through his mind of the young woman sprawled out on the floor, the top of the leather bodysuit gradually slipping lower and revealing more smooth skin by the second as she bent over the blueprints of the giant evil robots she had earlier announced her intention of beginning work on, the warlock shifted uncomfortably as his pants grew a little tighter than usual.  
  
'Maybe it's just as well that we're not going with the first one,' he admitted, recalling that although it was indeed well for an evil villainess to have that sort of effect on a man, it was NOT well for an evil villainess - particularly this newly-made evil villainess - to have that sort of effect on him, who prided himself on keeping the upper hand at all times.  
  
"Really, I feel almost...normal," Lucca was meanwhile announcing in surprise as she gazed critically at her reflection in the mirror. "The boots are still a little high, and I think the pants look pretty stupid - too tight - but anything's better than a leather bathing suit. All in all, not bad."  
  
"Agreed," Magus said a little too emphatically, eyes glued on the young woman's posterior as she bent to retrieve her headband, which had come loose and fallen to the floor.  
  
She straightened up and looked at him sharply.  
  
"What?"  
  
His blood red eyes registered only confused innocence.  
  
"Hmm? What?"  
  
------------------------------------------------  
  
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"Lucca?" Taban Ashtear repeated, scratching his head and frowning. "I don't know...I think she was here a couple days ago, but that might've just been Lara wandering around in an orange dress. Come to think of it," the burly, grease-spattered man continued, his frown deepening, "where was I this week?"  
  
Crono and Marle exchanged uncertain glances. At least, Crono reflected, the fact that Taban seemed too preoccupied with his own depressingly poor memory ensured that his, Crono's, ridiculous getup would not be commented on. There was, as the old saying went, balm in Gilead.  
  
Or so it seemed.  
  
"Crono! Princess Nadia! What on earth ARE you wearing?" a shrill voice called, half horrified and half amused.  
  
"Oh...hi, Mrs. Ashtear," Marle greeted the purple-haired woman swathed in an apron, with a cheery wave. "We're super-heroes! What do you think?"  
  
With that, Marle gave a little giggle and spun about, delighting in the way her cape blew out behind her.  
  
Perhaps any other woman would have been hesitant to give a royal princess her honest opinion on this. However, Lara Ashtear was not any other woman, nor was Marle what could be called a normal princess. There was nothing in the least bit regal or threatening about the girl. If she even knew that she could have someone executed for upsetting her, no one who conversed with her on a daily basis would have had any idea that she did. That aside, although she addressed her as Princess Nadia, Lara looked upon Marle as any delighted mother would upon her somewhat socially isolated daughter's first real girl-friend.  
  
So it was that Lara had little problem with answering Marle's question with,  
  
"I cannot believe your father let you two roam the countryside looking like that!"  
  
"Oh, I didn't ask Father," Marle said easily. "Mrs. Ashtear, do you know where Lucca is?"  
  
Lara thought about this for a long moment. Finally, she turned to her husband.  
  
"Taban, where's Lucca?"  
  
Taban turned from his in-depth of the shiny thing that had caught his full attention long enough to shrug absently.  
  
Lara frowned.  
  
"You mean, she wasn't tinkering away at some gadget all day with you?"  
  
Taban laid down his wrench and the cloth he was using to shine it.  
  
"Now that you mention it, Lar," he began, using the absurd diminutive that usually clued his wife into the fact that he had been taking a little whiskey with his tea that night, "she was with me until she left. Said she was going to visit a friend. Janet, I think. Strange name for a young man, in my opinion. Said she and he had a lot of work to do."  
  
Marle blinked as an inkling of Crono's earlier revelation finally descended upon her. Beside her, Crono's shoulders sagged as this earlier revelation gained just a little more evidence that pointed to its truth.  
  
"Mr. Ashtear, was the young man's name Janus?"  
  
"That might've been it..."  
  
Marle abruptly seized Crono's arm and dragged him to the door.  
  
"Er, thank-you, Mr. Ashtear, Mrs. Ashtear. Goodnight!"  
  
"What a nice young pair," Lara commented fondly, watching them go, their capes flapping merrily behind them. "Although sometimes I get the feeling that Crono isn't all there."  
  
"Don't be silly, Lara," Taban rumbled. "He's just the strong, silent type. Sure, he's not the smooth talker that the frog-man who came around for a while last year to see Lucca was, but he's a smart boy in his own right."  
  
"I'm sure you're right," Lara agreed with a warm smile. "The strong, silent type. Just like someone I know."  
  
Taban frowned.  
  
"Who are we talking about? One of your brothers? I haven't met them all, have I?"  
  
Lara sighed. Strong and silent, perhaps, but dense as a lead brick at times.  
  
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End Notes: Hee! I do hope this chapter wasn't too clichéd. I don't think it was. Just clichéd enough! Which, considering the goal of this story, is a lot. ^_^ Ah, well. It was a lot of fun to do, and I hope it's a lot of fun to read. Really, this whole story is oodles of fun. I think I'm almost having an easier time keeping everyone closer to character than I can in my quasi-serious stuff. There's more room to play, and because of that playing, I can make them act more like themselves. If I need a bizarre plot- twist, I don't have to rely on the slightly OOC actions of this character or that; I can just unabashedly shatter the fourth wall to smithereens and make a guest appearance to change it myself. ^_^  
  
Still, this was a particularly plotless chapter, even for this story. I just couldn't resist all the obligatory costume gags. Hee! Magus checking out Lucca's leather-clad posterior! ^________________^  
  
Anyway, thanks for reading! More 'shippiness to come later! 


	4. Off To a Roaring Stop

Chapter 4

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"What are you doing?"

Lucca looked up briefly from the sheet spread out over the newly purchased drafting table tucked into one corner of her room, lit dimly by a lamp in the corner, the bit of light streaming in from the door, and the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains.

"Oh, hey, Magus," she greeted absently, stretching her arms up over her head to try to alleviate the ache between her shoulder blades from spending the past eight – or had it been twelve? – hours bent over her diagrams. Then she stopped, her pencil dropping to the drafting table with a clack, from which it proceeded to roll to the floor. "How did you get in here, anyway? My parents aren't usually in the habit of letting strange men into their daughter's bedroom. And you're certainly what they'd call strange..."

"Your mother was already asleep," Magus replied with a smirk. "And it turns out that your father can be won over in much the same manner you can."

Her eyes narrowed, and he found himself rather impressed. When combined with the intricately twisting silver circlet set with the prescribed amethyst that they had decided would be a staple of her wardrobe, obviously found to replace the black velvet headband, the effect was, really, almost menacing. She was far too youthful and...cutesy to be truly menacing, but at a mere nineteen years old, that wasn't surprising. Perhaps age would turn that into a dark, sinister loveliness that had served so many villainesses so well in the past. While his thoughts wandered, she had continued.

"You gave him a book to distract him, didn't you?" 

He nodded, looking faintly pleased with himself. Then he frowned.

"What are you doing?" he asked again, crossing his arms and shifting his weight to one foot in what his newly-made protégé had already come to title his 'I'm annoyed, but I'm too cool to throw a tantrum' pose.

"Oh! Well, I was thinking about what you said – "

"I'm glad to hear it, but I don't see my choice for your costume anywhere." His tone implied deep disgust and disappointment.

"Not about that!" she barked. "No, what you said about how a villain has to think ahead. I figure, even if evil minions and tools of mass annihilation don't come until Chapter 13, I might as well start working on it. Come look at this."

Rolling his eyes slightly, he made his way across the room to the drafting table. Standing behind her, he peered over her shoulder at the diagrams covering the slanted surface.

"What are those?" he asked flatly.

"They're preliminary sketches for my army of evil robot minions! I went to see Robo to ask if he could spare any guys, but I think he knew what I wanted them for, because he just sort of muttered that they couldn't, and he had to get going, anyway. Then he slammed the door in my face. Weird, huh?"

"Just as well," Magus said with a faintly amused expression. "Robo and his 'brothers' aren't what I would call a sleek design."

"Hey, I think Robo's great just the way he is!"

"Ah. As enlightening as it is to find out what you look for in a man – you're apparently fond of fixer-upper projects – we do have a lot of things to do today, and doodling silly little robots isn't among them.

"But we need minions eventually, don't we?"

"Of course we do, but frankly, Lucca, I'm a little disappointed that evil robots are the most creative thing you can come up with."

"What's wrong with evil robots?" she protested hotly, spinning her chair about so suddenly that he had no time to dodge, and gave a shout of pain as her foot, pointy-heeled boot and all, collided with his knee. 

"The problem with evil robots," Magus began, rubbing his knee gingerly, "is that they're far too cold and impersonal. Even if one dislikes one's enemy, one must respect him."

"Or her," Lucca interjected, frowning at this blatant display of sexism. 

"Oh, shut up. Now, as I was saying, to disregard this rule is to not only disregard all sense of evil villain etiquette, but to eventually lead to one's own downfall."

"But...how is sending robots to kill them disrespectful?"

"Come now, Lucca," Magus smirked in a tone expressing deep pity for such a thick-headed girl. "Don't tell me that you wouldn't have been a little insulted if I had sent an army of fax machines and blenders after you, Crono, and that idiotic Glenn when you came for me."

"Actually, I'd have been more weirded out than anything," Lucca admitted, hopping off of her chair. "And anyway, what you sent after us wasn't much better. I personally find cross-dressers more insulting to my skills as a gunwoman than robots."

"If you're talking about Flea," Magus growled, "I will thank you to let the dead rest in peace."

"And Slash! What the heck kind of name is that?"

"The name of one of the greatest warriors of all time!"

"And Ozzie! Good God!"

A pause.

"Alright, now, I agree with you on Ozzie."

Lucca shook her head in exasperation, hands on her hips.

"But seriously, Magus, if you don't like evil robots as minions, what do you suggest?"

"Something a lot more elegant. Perhaps cat-people?"

"No way," Lucca said immediately. "Too arrogant, and if you put a shiny thing in front of their eyes, they totally forget what they were doing."

"Much like your family with books."

"Shut up!"

"Fine, then. No cat people. How about ninjas?"

"Too independent. They're sneaky, but they're sneaky where their boss is concerned, too. I don't want to die with a throwing star from one of my own men embedded in my skull. I don't know...I'd just like to avoid minions with their own agendas."

Magus rolled his eyes.

"Then what CAN we use?"

"I already told you; I'm going with the evil robots."

He rolled his eyes more emphatically, dropping to the single bed pushed into the corner opposite the door, with a weary sigh.

"Lucca, if you want to talk about minion uprisings from minions with their own agendas, evil robots are the poster-children for it!"

"That's why I insert a doomsday device. Any sign of independent thought, and BOOM!"

Magus looked distinctly impressed.

"I am distinctly impressed. Perhaps I have trained you better than I thought. Or perhaps the heritage is more deeply ingrained in you than anyone could have known."

"Or maybe this whole villain thing is just way too easy," she suggested, standing before the full-length mirror nailed up onto the inside of her bedroom door, and swirling her cape about her. "Forget 'those who can, do, and those who can't, teach'; those who can't, become evil villains!"

"You're deluding yourself if you think it's all this easy," he told her stonily.

"Hey, I'll worry about the hard parts when I come to 'em, Maggie," she grinned over her shoulder.

His glare deepened.

"One of 'the hard parts' might be finding a place to hide the next time you call me that."

"See? That's just the problem! You threaten and threaten, but I know you'll never actually do anything! If you villains were worth your salt, you wouldn't hesitate to kill even your protégé for insulting you! All talk and no action: that's exactly what YOU are."

Magus raised one eyebrow, his smirk ever so faintly suggestive.

"And the lack of 'action' distresses you?" 

Lucca wheeled about, creating a nicely billowing effect with the purple-lined black cape that had really quite grown on her over the past few days, and gave a bark of laughter.

"Are you JOKING? You're not my type."

"Oh, of course," he scoffed, crossing his arms and looking airily away. "Your 'type' is robots that need repairing every ten minutes.

"Not for that sort of thing," she giggled. "Although, they are doing amazing things with battery-operated...oh, never mind! While we're on the topic, what about you? I don't exactly see the girls flocking to you. The closest thing you had was Flea! I guess that explains it: you can't find a woman, so you order one of your minions to dress up like one!"

Throughout this speech, Lucca had been moving away from the mirror, having quickly tired of it, and moving toward the man seated on her bed. At this last statement, she reached him, put her hands on his knees, and leaning thus, grinned cheekily at him from a distance of less than three inches between their noses.

For a moment, both were silent. Then...

"Are you quite done?"

"Yeah, yeah," Lucca pouted, disappointed. Magus was so darned much fun when he was angry, but it seemed that it wasn't everyday that he would rise to her bait. This was, apparently, a day that business-like cool would override that cold, tightly controlled outrage at gentle teasing. "So, what's the plan, Evil Man?"

"I thought that this might be a nice evening for your coming out."

"My...what?"

"Your coming out," he repeated, an edge of impatience in his tone. "When we introduce you to society."

"Hey, unless there's been a sudden in-rush of people, I can't think of anyone in Truce that needs to be introduced to me."

"I meant, you as a villain!"

Lucca stopped short and frowned. Somehow, it hadn't occurred to her to think about that inevitable time when those people she had known all her life would find out about her new pastime. Somehow, the thought of all those shocked, horrified expressions made her uneasy.

"Uh...do we really have to do that? Couldn't I be, like, a secret villain?"

"Lucca, working from the shadows may be fun, and may seem like the perfect solution, for now. But you will tire of it," he explained, resting one hand gently on her shoulder. "There will come a time when you will want to take credit for your multitudes of evil deeds, and it will be galling, to say the least, when you step forward to accept the praise of men and nations, only to find out that they don't believe the acts were yours, because some middle-aged hack of a man has taken credit for them"

"Uh...right. It's just that I don't think my parents'll be too crazy about their daughter becoming a villain."

Magus sighed.

"Very well, then. We'll travel somewhere where no one knows you. Will that do?"

"Great! To the Epoch, then?"

"Yes, yes, to the Epoch," he grumbled. "Damn it. I thought I'd never be stuck in that cramped bucket of bolts again...

------------------------------------------

Half an hour later saw the two moving swiftly through the night, camouflaged into near invisibility by the darkness surrounding them. More silent than silence itself did these two wraith-like shadows glide, drawing closer to their destination, the first step in the fruition of their scheme.

"Just where did you leave the Epoch, anyway?" Magus demanded.

"Well, I couldn't just keep it here; you know how my father loves to tinker."

"Actually, I don't, and I would just as soon keep it that way."

"Whatever. Anyway, Crono and I agreed that it would be safest to keep it in the basement of the castle. Unfortunately, we'll have to break in to get it, but you shouldn't have a problem with that, right?"

"Of course," Magus sighed, wondering not for the first time if it was possible for this girl to do anything without turning it into a huge production.

-----------------------------------------

Meanwhile, in an extreme display of the delayed reaction take – a contender for the world record, doubtlessly – Taban Ashtear was scratching his head.

"Lara?" he called to his sleeping wife, peeking over the top of the book that that nice young man, Janet, had given him shortly after Crono and that pretty young wife of his had left.

"Mmm?" Lara murmured, her mind still wrapped in a fog of sleep.

"Did Lucca just come through here, wearing all black?"

"Mmm," Lara shrugged.

"I'm sure she did," Taban insisted. "That's too bad; I didn't think she was home, or I wouldn't have sent Crono and Princess Nadia away like that."

"Mmm," Lara nodded.

"Funny...I could have sworn she said she was going to visit that Janet fellow. Although, in retrospect, it is a little weird that he came through here a while back to give me that book. Ah, well. Maybe she said she was going to carve a bowling ball out of granite, and I misheard."

"Mmm," Lara agreed.

Taban smiled fondly at her, and went back to his book. Then, seconds later, he put it down again.

"What is it with kids and capes recently?"

--------------------------------------------

"Oh, crap! Who's that?!" Lucca hissed, clutching Magus' arm without thinking as two figures, one in pink and one in blue, approached from the opposite direction.

Magus peered carefully through the darkness. Then he smirked.

"I'd recognize that hair anywhere. Well. It seems that your friends are going to find out about your new way of life a little sooner than you'd expected."

"My God, it IS Crono! What has Marle DONE to him?"

"Yes...spandex definitely isn't for everyone."

"For ANYone, you mean," Lucca shuddered.

"I see we are in agreement. Altogether too garish, isn't it?"  
"Oh, yeah. But what are they doing, wandering around in the middle of the night, wearing spandex?"

"Perhaps," Magus began thoughtfully, "they have heard rumours of this new threat to the planet and were on their way to investigate."

"So, they already know?!" she squeaked.

"Only one way to find out," he shrugged, nudging her in their direction.

"Great," she whimpered. "Well, I guess it's now or never. And evil-villain-hood isn't really something you can keep from your best friends forever. So. Off I go. Whoo."

-----------------------------------------

"This is terrible, Crono!" Marle wailed as the two made their way through the darkened streets of Truce. All two of them, given Truce's status as a very small village. "I mean, maybe it's hasty to jump to conclusions, but what else could it mean?"

Crono shrugged helplessly, his expression just as miserable as Marle's.

"Okay. Let's stop for a minute and look at things logically," Marle suggested in what Crono had taken to calling, if only in his own mind, her "I'm-A-Queen-So-Don't-Screw-With-Me" voice – less a suggestion than a command.

Nodding in agreement nonetheless, Crono led her over to a conveniently placed bench at the side of the road winding out of Truce. Once both were seated, Marle took several deep breaths to calm herself. Crono simply stared as, with each deep breath, the same two bouncy parts that had so captivated him earlier rose and fell. Once more, a thin trail of drool crept from the corner of his mouth, down his chin, and to the ground. 

Finally, Marle spoke.

"Alright; first, we get a visit from a couple of talking cats."

Crono nodded, scratching his head in confusion at the memory as he did so. Unfortunately, the result of both nodding and scratching at once was that the young man poked himself in the head several times, and as a finale, nearly lost an eye.

His wife, paying no attention to his antics, continued.

"The cats tell us about the newest great threat to the planet."

Crono nodded again, this time refraining from scratching.

"Meanwhile, Lucca's been out every time we try to see her."

Again Crono nodded, his expression glum at the knowledge that, despite his best efforts, his best friend seemed to have grown away from his as of late.

"And I KNOW it isn't because she's trying to avoid me so I don't invite her to another Tupperware (tm) party; we talked about that."

Crono nodded, chuckling as he did so. What an amusing conversation that had been...

"Then, when we go to see her, we find out that not only is she not home again, but that she's going to see someone who could very well be Magus!"

Crono nodded, more eagerly, as it seemed that Marle had finally stumbled upon the situation at last.

"This can only mean one thing, Crono!"

Crono waited with bated breath for her to continue.

"Lucca's going out with Magus, and mice are trying to take over the world!"

Crono began to strike a heroic pose, but before he could utter the heroic platitudes of how they would rescue their dear comrade from the darkness to which she had succumbed, Marle's words sank in and he waved his arms about madly in the universal symbol of 'what the hell?!'

"Well, what else could it mean?" Malre demanded, hurt by his lack of enthusiastic agreement with her assessment of the situation.

"Geez, Marle," a voice from nearby called teasingly. "How about ANYTHING?"

Both spandex-clad rulers of Guardia leapt from their bench and whirled about to face the newcomers. 

"Lucca! Magus!" Marle exclaimed.

"!" Crono added.

"Well-said, Crono!" Marle congratulated him briefly before focusing her attention once more on Lucca. "So, if you haven't been sleeping with Magus, where have you been all the time, hmm?" And why is he here now?"

"Oh, for the love of all things unholy," Magus muttered, his great irritation causing him to uncross his arms. "Lucca has been pursuing a new life path – "

"It's more of a passing hobby, really," Lucca interjected, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly at Crono's expression of grim anticipation.

" – and that is the pursuit of darkest evil. I am here because I am a mentor of sorts to this new great threat to humanity."

"Yeah, right," Lucca snorted. "More like the annoying guy who criticizes everything I try to do and dresses me up in stupid leather bathing suits."

Marle's eyes narrowed critically.

"Did he put that together?"

"Well, yeah..."

"I like it," Marle announced brightly. "Black is totally your colour, and the purple jewels really bring the highlights in your hair."  
In spite of herself and her dislike of this frivolous 'a villainess must look good' business, Lucca smiled, quite pleased. After all, Marle might not be the brightest of people, but she did know fashion!

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah. It's a really nice look. Although, you might want to think about contacts. Not that there's anything wrong with glasses, but contacts, especially if you can find some in purple, might really pull the look together."

"You think so?" Lucca asked thoughtfully, pulling off her glasses and studying them carefully,

"That's what I've been saying all along!" Magus sputtered, outraged.

"Definitely," Marle said, ignoring Magus. "Give it some thought, okay?"

"Enough!" Magus bellowed. "Have you forgotten why we are here, Lucca?"

"Oh, right, right." She struck a dramatic pose, leaping onto the nearby bench. "I am Lucca the Brilliant – "

"Not much of a villain name," Marle commented, frowning.

"We're working on it," Magus said wearily.

" – and in the name of all that is evil, unwholesome, and just plain unpleasant, I will destroy all who stand in the way of my ultimate goal!"

"Um...what's your ultimate goal?" Marle piped up, head tilted to the side adorably.

Lucca blinked.

"Y'know, I don't think I have one yet," she announced after a long pause.

Magus gave a pained groan.

"If you'll excuse us, staunch heroes, we'll just slink away with what tatters of dignity remain to us," he grumbled, seizing Lucca by the arm, yanking her off of the bench, and leading her back toward Truce. 

Ere three steps had been taken, however...

"Hold it right there!"

"What in the hell?!" Magus spat as two-dozen men in the blue uniforms of Guardia soldiers leapt out from behind various and sundry bushes and trees.

"We have overheard your plot to sneak into the castle under the cover of darkness," one of the men announced grandly, "and we cannot allow it! By the law of this kingdom, you are under arrest! You will come with us quietly, or you will relinquish your right to a fair trial!"

Lucca glared icily at the warlock as the two were dragged forcefully toward the castle.

"I hate you, Magus. I hate you AND your stupid schemes."

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End Notes: Hee! Well, that was...interesting. I'm not totally sure what happened in this chapter, but stuff is happening now, even if it couldn't correctly be called a 'plot.' However, I don't suppose anyone currently reading minds the sheer plotlessness, as you wouldn't have even bothered clicking on a story called "Generic Anime: Chrono Trigger Style!" that fully admits to pointlessness (albeit well-written pointlessness – yay me!) and anime clichés if you were looking for drama, angst, or even a cohesive sequence of events that doesn't make Dragonhalf look like War and Peace (unless you get off on telling people that they're stupid and their work is garbage because it isn't what you and your angst-obsessed little mind crave, in which case you are the single saddest creature I have ever encountered). The Brutal Killer Martial Arts Tournament! Oh, yeah! ^_^

Oh, one more thing: Azalai, I hope you don't mind this, but I'm going to try to stick both your suggested lines, particularly "Splendidly frightening dream, my lady" into the story at a further point. Hehehe...already got the perfect place... ^_^

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this slightly longer than usual instalment, and I hope you'll join us (well, me) next time for more Generic Anime: Chrono Trigger Style!

Bye!


	5. A Silly Scheme But a Scheme Nonetheless

Chapter 5

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   "Damn him!" the furious darkly clad young woman snarled, storming about the tiny prison cell, illuminated only by the flicker of torches hanging on the walls of the corridor just outside, and smelling thickly of damn stone and earth. "That bastard! I hope he's rotting in Hell, the lousy, rotten traitor!"

   "Quiet in there!" a guard barked at her, rattling the bars noisily. 

   "Yeah, thanks, pal," Lucca called back. "I needed that."

Then, being greeted only by another rattling of bars, she dropped dejectedly to the narrow wooden bench stretched along one wall.

   "Geez...this is _not_ my idea of how to spend an evening," she muttered with a heavy sigh, memories of the events of the past hours rolling over her.

When Lucca and her self-acclaimed mentor had been seized by the army of Guardia, they had been dragged only a few hundred yards – during which both lost sight of Crono and Marle, who had disappeared amidst the swarm of uniformed men – before something odd had happened.

That is, odd to an outside observer who had little experience with magic, and how it looked and sounded when it was cast.

Lucca, however, knew immediately what was happening when Magus started to chant, softly at first and growing in volume until he finished the spell with a bellow of,  

   "DARK BOMB!" 

As blue uniforms flew to the left and right, and Magus emerged, free of his captors, Lucca reflected smugly that it was nice to be working with someone who knew what he was doing. Really, she added silently as she waited to be rescued with another well-placed spell, it had been a long time since she had hailed his Little Triangles of Death with gratefulness as opposed to mockery. 

The smugness and gratefulness both evaporated quickly, however, when Magus, instead of using his free range of motion to grant her the same, took to the road, sailing just above it at a speed that none of the soldiers wanted to try to overcome.

Then, being rather high on the intelligence curve, it occurred to Lucca that Magus was not the only magic user in their partnership. Unfortunately, her great intelligence managed to overlook the slight detail of the soldiers currently escorting her none too gently back to the castle having been made paranoid by Magus' escape.

Thus, when she began what was to have been a well-timed Flare spell – after all, when Lucca did something, she did not do it half-heartedly – the guards recognized the odd language, and put an end to her attempt with a sharp blow to the head with a Billy club.  

The result of all this was the girl's current situation of sitting in the dungeons of Guardia Castle, alone and seething, while Magus no doubt frolicked, merry and carefree, through sunshiney fields of daises. 

Her great anger with her aggravating mentor who would abandon his own student without a thought led her to ignore the utter absurdity of this scenario.

   "Hmph! And where are Crono and Marle right now? I like how they just sort of disappeared. Couldn't even arrest me themselves! Some 'heroes of virtue' THEY are! When the going gets tough, pass it off to your guards! You'd think that for old time's sake, they could've thrown me in here themselves."

   "This is true," a voice agreed smoothly from behind her. "But you should have realized going into this that villainy wouldn't make you any friends...except with other villains."

   "Yeah, great, Magus," she shot back, glaring. "The same friends who will abandon you to make their own escape?"

She turned away from him with a huff, and then did a double take.

   "How did you get in here, anyway?"

   "Through the giant, gaping hole in the wall," Magus explained dryly, gesturing to the back of the cell, which did indeed seem to be half-demolished.

   "Holy crap!" Lucca exclaimed. "There's a giant, gaping hole in the wall!"

   "Oh, well, let's just announce it to the guards," Magus hissed sarcastically, wrapping one arm around her waist, pulling her back against him, and clapping his free hand over her mouth.

Needless to say, she didn't appreciate this treatment at all, and he soon came to learn this in the most painful way possible, that of a tapered heel coming down with considerable velocity and ferocity on his toe.

   "ARGH! What was that for?" he bellowed, clutching his foot painfully. 

   "I don't like cavemen," she replied airily. 

   "Fine," he grumbled. "I apologize. No more manhandling."

   "And what about betrayals?" she asked acerbically, beginning to pace. "Can I expect many more of those?" 

   "Damn it, Lucca, take a look at the situation," he commanded, dropping to the wooden bench. "If we had both been locked up in here, who would have come for us?"

   "Well-"

   "Exactly."

She came to a halt in front of him and glared down at him, hands on her hips.

   "But we could have both gotten away, if you hadn't been in such a damn hurry to take to the road."

   "Think about it. Breaking in here to get you gave me the perfect reason to be around the castle!"

   "So?"

   "What was our initial objective tonight?"

   "To come get the Epoch. Oh...right. So, did you get it?"

   "As a matter of fact, I did. Your chariot awaits."

   "Actually, it's more of a-"

Magus made an exasperated noise.

   "Will you let me have my poetic touches, please?"

   "Fine," she grumbled, starting over to the gaping hole torn out of the brick wall of the cell. "Hey, Magus, I have a question: how did you blow a hole in the wall so quietly?"

   "Quietly?" he snorted. "I made a tremendous amount of noise. You did seem preoccupied, though, so I don't wonder that you missed it."

   "Oh," she nodded. Then she stopped short again. "I have another question."

   "Go ahead."

   "If you were so worried about my shouting getting the guards' attention, why did you blow a hole in the wall? Isn't that sort of thing noisy?"

   "Terribly so. Which is why I cast a strong, strong sleeping spell on all of the guards before I took out the wall."

   "Then...why the big deal about me shouting?"

   "I was simply trying to impress on your mind the importance of being calm, collected, and above all things, subtle when you're a villain."

   "All part of the training," she murmured, rubbing her forehead wearily.

   "Naturally!" he beamed. 

   "You know, that orphanage idea is looking better and better," she noted with a sigh as they stepped through the jagged hole in the wall of the prison.

   "Is it an evil orphanage?" Magus asked suspiciously.

   "Copyright," she reminded him mildly.

   "Well, ignoring copyright laws is a properly villainous thing to do," he shrugged.

   "Yup," she sighed. "Hordes and hordes of screaming kids look like a really good idea right now."

--------------------------------------

Crono heaved a long sigh, and glanced sideways as he heard it echoed by the woman next to him on the brown leather couch along one tapestry-hung wall of the room. Patting her arm consolingly, he reflected that this situation sucked quite a large quantity of donkey-arse. Of course, being Crono, he did not word it this way. However, being Crono, he would have worded it more along the lines of "...", which has the aggravating tendency of being rather difficult to translate. It is for this reason that the chronicler of this fine (?) tale has chosen to paraphrase.

Nevertheless, it is fairly certain that Crono's thoughts ran, if not exactly this way, along these lines. 

It is also fairly certain that Marle's thoughts ran along a similar line, but before she had the chance to voice any such thing, two visitors bounded happily through the door of Guardia Castle's only Secret Hero Lair. 

   "Brilliantly done," Munkustrap congratulated the princess heartily. "The villain has been locked away, never to trouble this fair kingdom again!"

   "It's wonderful, isn't it?" Victoria added with a happy giggle.

Something snapped in Marle's mind. Bounding to her feet, she very quickly after applied one of those feet firmly to Munkustrap's backside.

   "No, it is NOT wonderful!" she shrieked as he crashed through a window, which slowed down his flight only slightly. "My best friend is in the dungeon right now, and we have no idea why!"

   "Princess Marle, she was the villain!"

   "Think about it, Victoria," Marle requested impatiently. "What exactly did she do?"

   "Well...she-"

   "She told us about her new hobby, showed us her new outfit, and got dragged off by the guards!"

   "But, Princess, she was going to break into the palace! Surely she planned to put into action a nefarious scheme!"

   "You watch too many cartoons," Marle informed the little white kitten coldly. "She was coming to get the Epoch! We don't know what she wanted it for!"

   "You're in denial," Munkustrap's voice drifted in through the window in a pained groan. 

   "SHUT UP!" Marle barked, hurling a heavy stone bust of Artemis T. Cledus, greatest banjo player ever to live, and her father's own personal hero, out the window.

   "Darn my luck," Munkustrap lamented sadly.

   "Characterization," Victoria called out the window, then pausing to bat the tassels on the ends of the draperies. "Oh, dear..."

   "I just can't accept that Lucca decided out of the blue to become a villain! That just doesn't seem like her!"

   "I suppose you think that starting an orphanage is more like her," Victoria scoffed, losing her patience and with it her shyness. "You have to face it, Marle. It is destiny that you should fight her."

   "Well, until she actually does something, I'm not going to base my life on 'destiny'. Crono, come on!"

Rather bewildered, Crono stood up.

   "Where are you going?" Victoria asked wearily, unknowingly voicing the burning question currently igniting Crono's mind.

   "To the dungeon," Marle replied determinedly. "We have no grounds to keep Lucca imprisoned here! We're going to unlock her, and then we're all going to sit down and have a nice talk. The first thing I want to talk to her about is her taste in men. I thought I saw Magus running away pretty fast when they got nabbed by our guards. Honestly, I don't want to see my closest girl-friend throwing herself away on a guy who'll just turn tail and run the second things get a little tough!"

Crono blinked as Marle stalked indignantly from the Secret Hero Lair, pausing first to grab the dungeon key, hanging conveniently by the door.

   "Uh..." he began slowly, then thought better of even asking, and hurried after her.

   "The Princess certainly didn't take it very well, did she?" Munkustrap asked weakly as he hauled himself back into the room through the window.

   "Oh, dear," Victoria sighed again, offering her companion a helping paw up.

------------------------------------------

Together, the Princess and Prince Consort of Guardia strode swiftly along the dark, shadowy corridors, lined on either side with prison cells, lit only by the faint glow of light bulbs set into wall sconces to resemble torches. 

   "Thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five! Here it is, Crono," Marle announced breathlessly as the two came to a stop in front of the cell. 

Then, just as she was about to call to her friend, the young woman noticed something that made her pony-tail stand up on end in shock and horror.

   "Crono, look!"

Crono, apparently, was already looking, if the expression on his face, eyes so wide that it seemed as though they would fall out at any minute, was any indication. Together, they stared at the gaping hole in the back of the prison cell for a long while. Finally, Marle gave a despairing little cry.

   "Whatever came through that wall must have got her," she whimpered sadly. "Do you think it was the mice?"

Crono scratched his head for a moment, and then withdrew from his pocket, able to hold much more than it should have due to the alternate dimension within it specifically meant for holding his stuff, a copy of the script. Flipping back several pages, the young man scanned the pages briefly. Finally, recalling where exactly the mice had come in, he tossed the script over his shoulder, where it promptly disappeared in the grand and illogical tradition of anime, and patted Marle gently on the shoulder, about to remind her that there were no evil mice. However, just as he opened his mouth, a familiar laugh, tinged with an unfamiliar quality, rang out behind them.

Both whirled about and froze in shock that was really quite odd, given the entire predictability of events.

   "Lucca?!" Marle exclaimed.

   "That's right," the purple-haired girl smirked, cackling gleefully.

Seconds later, her cackling trailed off and she blinked in bewilderment as she found herself engulfed in a hug by a teary Marle.

   "I'm so glad you're safe," Marle sobbed. "We thought the evil mice that are out to take over the planet had got you!"

   "Evil...mice?" Lucca repeated, unable to scratch her head as her arms were both pinned quite firmly to her sides by her friend's over-enthusiastic hug.

Crono held up the script before her eyes and pointed to a spot on the page. She peered closely at the spot for a moment.

   "Oh, right," she nodded thoughtfully. Then, her expression shifting to annoyance, she firmly disentangled herself from Marle's arms. "Hey, I'm kind of trying to be menacing here, Marle. And it's not really helping my self-image as a scary villain if your first instinct when you see me is to give me a big hug."

  "But you're not a scary villain," Marle giggled. "This is all just one big misunderstanding."

   "Actually, it isn't," Lucca corrected her coldly.

Marle's eyes filled with tears.

   "But…but…but…WHY?!"

   "Because this is where I belong now. This is what I was born to do. I will avenge the wrong that has been done to me! I will travel back in time, and then the man who wrote that loathsome song, "Bad Moon Rising," will cease to exist! And moreover, because he will be gone from his own past, the song will never have been written! Gyah-hah-hah-hah-haaaaaaaaaah!"

   "You fiend!" Marle exclaimed, getting into the act at last. Beside her, Crono mirrored her dramatic pose. "That song is one of the crowning achievements of modern man!"

   "A song?" Random Prison Guard #4 laughed in disbelief. "Your motivation is to get rid of a song you don't like?"

Lucca shrugged defiantly.

   "Well...yeah..."

   "It needs work," the man told her kindly.

   "You think so?"

   "Silence!" Marle exclaimed. "Lucca, you were once our friend and ally, but even as a friend, I can show no mercy to anyone who would seek to eliminate something so beautiful and precious! From here on out, we shall be enemies! Hey...how did you get out of jail, anyway, if the evil mice didn't get you?"

   "Oh, I used my feminine wiles to charm the prison guard into letting me out," Lucca replied, striking an exaggeratedly sexy pose, batting her eyelashes.

   "You're kidding," Marle said, her tone heavy with incredulity, a sweatdrop suspended at the side of her head.

   "Well, yeah," Lucca admitted with a grin. "Actually, Magus busted me out."

With that, she reached around behind her and pulled the warlock, who was busily assuming an unconcerned posture of crossed arms and mask of apathy and annoyance, from hammerspace.

   "Tell me again," he requested, annoyed as he tried to work the kinks from his shoulders and back, "why do I have to ride in your back pocket? Not that it isn't fun, just a little uncomfortable."

   "'Cause," she replied with a chilling dignity.

   "Oh, of course," he scoffed. "'Cause."

   "It's just as good as the reasons you have for most of the things _you_ do," she shot back. "'Why did you burn down that town, Magus?'  'I didn't like the colour of the mayor's tie.' Real good reason, there."

   "Oh, shut up!"

   "You shut up!" 

   "YOU shut up!"

   "YOU shut up!"

   "YOU shut up!"

   "Um…whose line was that?" Marle asked Crono, scratching her head in confusion.

Crono shrugged, and then went back to his task of shining The Rainbow on his cape. Damn, but he had the coolest sword ever!

Meanwhile, the fight had continued.

   "YOU shut up!" 

   "YOU shut up!"

   "YOU shut up!"

   "YOU shut up!"

   "Guys!" Marle interjected pleadingly. "Why can't you both just get along? You know, it doesn't present a very professional image when you can't stop bickering long enough to finish telling us about your evil plan."

   "Who said we cared to tell you?" Magus scoffed.

   "I already told them," Lucca informed him seriously.

Magus blinked.

   "You have?" 

   "I have," she replied.

   "She has," Marle added.

   "It needs work," Random Prison Guard #4 piped up.

   "Shut up!" Magus bellowed, silencing the man with a well-placed ball of fire. Then he sighed, and then turned to Crono and Marle. "Now, brave heroes, if you'll excuse us, we are very busy, and cannot spend any more time in idle chatter. If you wanted to have an epic battle, well, perhaps that might be different-"

Both Crono and Lucca winced at the idea.

   "-but as you don't seem to be thus inclined, we really must take our leave of this place."

   "Yeah, bye, guys," Lucca chirped, turning around with a sweep of her cape and bouncing up the stairs.

With an irritated grumble roughly translating as "she just doesn't get it" Magus darted after her.

And back in the prison, Crono and Marle watched them go, looking utterly perplexed.

   "They're really bad at this," Crono said decidedly.

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End Notes: Even more pointless than last time! Do the wonders never cease?! ^_^


	6. And Furthermore, Shut Up!

Chapter 6: And Furthermore, Shut up!

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   "Will you hurry up?!" 

Magus regarded the source of the very annoyed question, calmly. 

   "I prefer to walk. It's much more dignified than scampering like that."

   "Oh, great. Let's see how much your "dignity" helps you when we're back in prison."

   "I think you know that won't happen."

   "Of course not," Lucca scoffed. "I'd be back in prison, and you'd be running home to your security blankie." 

   "I do not have a blankie," he said icily. "It's a cape."

   "Whatever! Will you just hurry?! Do that stupid floating trick, or something."

   "Lucca, I am trying to cultivate in you the proper villain conduct. What if we ran into another evil team? You would be out of breath, sweaty, hair all mussed up…" Here, he trailed off.

Lucca blinked, noticing that the world had become a much less annoying place for her, and thus concluding that Magus had either left or stopped talking.

   "Uh, Magus?"

   "Hmm? What?" he asked innocently, surreptitiously wiping a thin trail of drool from the corner of his mouth and banishing some rather enticing mental images of the girl at his side in just such a dishevelled state, and a decided lack of clothing due to the things he had been doing to her in the mental images to _get_ her into that state. 

She rolled her eyes.

   "Never mind. I'm sure if I knew, it would just creep me out."

He gave an annoyed grumble.

   "So, explain to me one more time why we couldn't take the Epoch all the way to your house."

Lucca laughed.

   "You've obviously never met my dad."

   "Actually, I have. He's the one with the moustache who keeps calling me Janet, right?"

   "Dad's weird," she noted, shaking her head sadly.

   "It obviously hasn't skipped a generation, either."

   "What was that, Janet?" she grinned. "Anyway, we can't take the Epoch to my house because, although Dad is completely oblivious most of the time, if you put a machine in front of him, he suddenly wakes up. And I don't want him asking any questions. I've had a hard enough time getting Mom squared away."

   "So, this explains why we've taken the Epoch into the forest and hidden it behind a tree?" Magus asked sarcastically. "I leave it to your conscience if some idiot child finds it and accidentally removes himself from existence."

   "Oh, that couldn't happen," Lucca said easily. "Even if a kid found it, time is still forward-moving."

   "Why do I get the feeling that this is going to lead to a headache?"

   "Well, think about it. Did we ever run into alternate, slightly younger versions of ourselves when we were travelling all over time?"

   "I hadn't thought about it."

   "You're welcome!"

   "Uh…"

   "Anyway, the reason is that time kept moving at a constant rate in all the times we visited, even when we weren't there. The Epoch didn't work with measures of time any smaller than years. It's why we couldn't go back just a few minutes to save Crono. And furthermore-"

   "And furthermore," Magus interjected, "shut up!"

She looked wounded. 

   "I've always found it interesting," she shrugged.

   "Yes, well, if we were going to list everything wrong with _you_, we could be here for days. And since "the Epoch doesn't deal with measures of time smaller than years", we couldn't go back and recover them, so they'd still be days wasted."

   "Fine," she pouted. "So, what are we going to do when we get back to my house?"

   "We're going to hammer out your evil plan once and for all," Magus replied firmly. "We've left it up in the air to deal with minor details for far too long now. Worrying about minions and costume-"

   "And whose fault is that?" she murmured.

   "-before you've even got your plan worked out is the true sign of an amateur. It's like…well, it's like writing a story without bothering to nail down a plot!"

   "Hey!" a voice remarkably like Rhianwen's called from the sky. "Before you criticize the way I write my stories, Mr. Smart-Ass, try remembering that you're _in_ one of those stories right now, and if you tick me off, bad things could happen to you!"

   "Like what?" he scoffed. "You're far too much of a 'shipper to kill off one half of your favourite pairing."

  "Favourite pairing?" Lucca repeated bewilderedly. "What are you talking about?"

   "Well, it just so happens," Rhianwen's voice began smugly, "that I've recently become something of a Lucca/Frog 'shipper, and I'm totally open to employing my newfound tendencies here. And you know what _that_ means! There'd be no reason to keep _you _around."

   "Oh, come on! What about Lucca's evil training?"

   "That's continuity," Rhianwen scoffed. "I don't care about that, as long as there's 'shippiness!"

   "Fine, fine, no more wisecracks," Magus grumbled.

   "Thank-you," Rhianwen said airily before shutting up to let the story take its course once more.

   "Okay, what in the hell was that all about?" Lucca demanded.

   "Never mind," Magus sighed. "I hate authors who can't keep out of their own stories."

   "Uh…kay," Lucca said slowly. "So, let's keep going, okay?"

   "All right."

----------------------------------------------

   "No! It's absolutely out of the question," he expostulated twenty minutes later, pacing up and down Lucca's bedroom. "The deal was that we were coming back here to work on your evil plot! You didn't say a thing about playing with those silly robots."

   "These aren't the robots," she informed him primly from her drafting table. "These are mechas. There's a difference. Please learn it."

   "Robots, mechas, what difference does it make if you don't have a plot to employ them in?!" 

Lucca shrugged.

   "I get the satisfaction of a hard day's work."

   "Get your satisfaction _after_ we've mapped out your plan!"

   "Fine," she grumbled, hopping off the stool and approaching him. "Well, I figured that, to eliminate that song-"

   "What, "Bad Moon Rising"? I still don't see why-"

   "Hey, you got a better idea?"

Magus sighed.

   "Continue."

   "Thank-you. I figured that the easiest thing to do would just be to travel back in time and strongly urge the man who wrote that song, not to."

   "And how will you 'urge' him?"

   "See, that's where the mechas come in."

   "You plan to…threaten the man with certain death by mecha if he doesn't promise never to write that song."

   "Exactly!"

   "So, what do you do if you leave his time, return to your own day, and find that he has lied?"

   "I give him three chances, and then it's squishy time!" 

Magus was silent for a long moment.

   "Simple, yet effective. Although, I do have a problem with this 'three chances' policy of yours. A true villain would just squish him right away to get what they wanted in the first place. Reasoning isn't very villainous." 

   "Yeah, well, maybe villains aren't very smart. I hold to what I said earlier about "those who can, do, and those who can't, become evil villains."

   "If you feel that way, perhaps we should just stop this all right now."

   "Great! I've been hoping you'd say that!"

   "What?! No! Not after we've come this far!"

   "How far? All we've done is get me a stupid-looking outfit, get thrown in jail, and steal the Epoch."

   "Ah, but now you've decided upon a plan, which is the most difficult step."

   "Well, I guess…and I have always hated that song…"

   "As much as I don't understand going to all that effort to eliminate a song. I suppose you do have to start somewhere. It's what How to Be an Evil Villain in Twelve Easy Steps says. Starting with an over-ambitious project is just asking for disaster. Start small. And your plan's small, all right. Ah, well. Eventually we'll get you onto the important things, like conquering kingdoms and overthrowing governments."

   "Yeah, great," she agreed sarcastically. "What am I supposed to do with a kingdom?" 

   "Conquer it, of course," he scoffed. "And then rule it with an iron fist!"

   "Will an iron wrench do as well? How about an iron screwdriver? Ooh! Ooh! An iron hammer!"

   "You're missing the point," he informed her grumpily. "But it's no good to get ahead of ourselves anyway. For now, we'll focus on the plot at hand."

   "Okay," Lucca shrugged. "But I think I've got my plan as figured out as it's going to get."

   "Fool!" Magus jeered. "You have your objective, not your plan."

   "I have the plan, too," Lucca assured him easily.

   "Oh, really. Then who is your target?"

   "The guy who wrote "Bad Moon Rising"! Who do you think?"

   "And his name is?"

   "Well, geez, I can't really say it here," she replied, glancing nervously about her. "We're not allowed to bring real people – er, that is, we're not allowed to bring people of an alternate dimension known as 'reality' – into the story. Let's just say that he may or may not be John Fogerty." 

Magus was silent for a moment. 

   "Very well. And do you know where you'll find the man?"

   "At his house, of course."

   "And do you know where that is?"

   "Right here," Lucca replied immediately, withdrawing a huge rolled-up map from behind her drafting table, unrolling it, and indicating a dot drawn in red Magic Marker, with a gigantic green sticky arrow pointing to it, as if the red dot hadn't been enough, not to mention the various angry and rather rude phrases scrawled around it in the same red pen.

   "I see," Magus said slowly. "Now for the final question. How do you plan to lure him to a secluded location long enough to give him your terms?"

   "Well, I've been watching him for the last few days now, and talking to a few people he knows – in disguise, naturally – and he goes out for a jog at seven every evening. I'll get there early and stash my new mecha – hopefully I'll be able to talk some kid into piloting it for me – and then I'll follow the target at a safe distance until we reach that spot. It's about the halfway point on his daily route, so I should be pretty safe."

   "I don't know what to say," Magus finally said, a tiny smile making a tentative appearance. "You do your work thoroughly, don't you?"

   "Of course!" 

   "I knew your potential would be great. You'll truly be a force to be reckoned with someday…once we get you onto worthwhile schemes."

   "Hey, I think getting rid of a song I don't like is plenty worthwhile!"

   "But the song itself is hardly universally hated."

   "Yeah, but I don't like it," Lucca shrugged. "And that's what really matters, since I'm the girl genius behind the plan, right?"

   "I can't argue with the twisted logic of a budding young villainess," Magus informed his reflection in the mirror hanging on her door.  

   "Hey, I ain't just a pretty face," she chuckled. 

   "You certainly aren't," Magus agreed carefully.

   "Geez, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that was clever!"

   "Oh, shut up. Now, get some sleep, will you? We have a big day tomorrow, putting your first evil scheme into effect."

   "Uh…tomorrow?" she echoed. "About that…"

   "What," he growled, fixing her with a stern glare.

   "Well, with all the getting arrested and stuff, I haven't had time to build the mecha yet. I've just got the plans drawn up. It'll probably take at least a week, what with ordering the supplies from the city and allowing for a margin of error and everything."

   "Oh, great," he grumbled. "I assume you'll be starting tonight."

   "I would, if I had my supplies," she sighed.

   "When will that happen?"

   "In about four to five business days."

   "Damn it! What are we supposed to do until you can start construction?" 

   "I don't know!" she exclaimed, throwing up her hands in exasperation and crossing the room to flop back onto her bed. Then she sat up and smirked. "What does The Book say comes next?" 

   "The Book?" he echoed.

   "That bible of yours."

   "Ah! Twelve Easy Steps! Why didn't you say so?"

   "I think I just did…"

   "Shut up. And to answer your question, I think the next obvious step would be an evil lair," he continued, casting a critical eye about the tiny room, sprinkled liberally with piles of books, bits of wire and machinery, and an impressive array of tools.

She blinked.

   "What?"

   "A secret hideout. A den of iniquity. A deathtrap for heroes and salesmen alike."

   "Okay, I know you took that directly out of Twelve Easy Steps."

He crossed his arms and looked away huffily.

   "So?" 

   "Just making conversation. Anyway, where do you suggest? Evil property isn't exactly in high supply around Truce."

   "For now, I believe we'll get you set up in the basement of my castle."

   "Your castle?" she echoed nervously.

   "Is there a problem?"

   "Well, no…it's just so…creepy."

   "Thank-you. That's the atmosphere I was going for."

   "Yeah, great. But why do I have to work there? Why can't I just work here?"

   "For several reasons," he replied, picking his way through the mess covering the floor and taking a seat at the drafting table. "First of all, it's like your clothes – altogether too "cute brainy team mate" for your purposes. Secondly, it's far too cramped. Do you honestly plan to build your little robots and things in here?"

   "No, I'll do those in the workshop. Dad'll probably help."

   "Absolutely not!"

   "What? Why?" she asked, astonished.

   "You honestly mean to involve your father in your evil plans?"

   "Well…"

   "Exactly."

   "But…he probably wouldn't ask any questions," she said hopefully.

   "It's not possible," Magus said firmly. "Tomorrow, we'll get you a workshop set up in my castle."

   "Okay, fine. But if I get attacked by a single Save Point down there-"

   "Don't worry about that," Magus interjected somewhat resentfully. "You, Crono, and that fly-eating weakling destroyed everything living in it. The Save Points included."

   "Good," she said smugly. "And I assume I'll have some privacy?"

   "I thought that was the point."

   "No, I mean, you're not going to show up and demand to know while I'm wasting my time on killer robots when I could be breeding mutant cat-people or something, are you?"

   "Very possibly; why?"

She ground her teeth.

   "Wrong answer, pal. Look, thanks for the offer, but I think I'll just work at home."

   "Fine, fine, no interruptions unless they're necessary."

   "And?" she pressed.

   "And…and telling you that that's not how _I'd_ do it – even though my way is almost certainly better – is not necessary."

   "Thank-you," she said even more smugly. "Now, go away so I can sleep."

   "Very well. Goodnight. And may your sleep be free from nightmares of fuzzy little bunnies playing merrily in sunshiney, daisy-filled fields."

Lucca shook her head in silent despair as Magus shuddered at the mere horror of the thought of fuzzy little bunnies in daisy-filled fields.

   "Whatever you say," she sighed. "Now, go away, okay?"

   "Fine," he grumbled, exiting the room and shutting the door behind him.

--------------------------------------------

The next morning, as Lucca stood before the massive door to the dark, gloomy, decidedly ominous-looking castle, she felt a chill creep down her spine as she stared up at it, waiting for someone to answer her knock. This, it seemed to her, was rather odd, as she had felt no such chill the last time she had been here. Reflecting that she had just caught a draught, she put the matter out of her mind as the door swung open and her host escorted her inside.

However, when they reached the library that he had been leading her to, and she saw a various assortment of home decorating magazines – or rather, _evil_ home decorating magazines, as if there are any other kind – she reflected that maybe she had some powers of prophecy, and the chill down her spine had been a sign to run as far as she could, as fast as she could.

_Yeah,_ she thought to herself as she took a seat opposite Magus, who had already begun to suggest various colour schemes she might want to experiment with and the different places that she could put the Bottomless Pit of Doom, _this is going to be a looooooooong day._

--------------------------------------------

End Notes: [Waves cheerfully] Bye!


	7. The Disease That is Interior Design

Chapter 7

------------------------------------------

   "I'm back," Magus announced as he entered the library.

Lucca, seated at the table spread with various catalogues, decorating magazines, paint swatches, and a cup of cold coffee, glared at him icily.

   "Oh, that's nice," she said with a forced sort of sweetness. "Because, you know, I've only been sitting here in your library by myself for FOUR HOURS!"

He looked at her oddly.

   "And your point is?"

   "I'm bored!" she whined. "All I've got to read is 12 Easy Steps, and I've read that to the point that I quote it in my sleep! And you didn't leave me any books! Some stupid library this is…"

   "No books? What do you call those?" he demanded, gesturing to the magazines.

   "I call these 'tedious crap'," she replied, scowling in disgust at a copy of _The World's Most Beautiful Lairs of Evil and Destruction. _

He sighed, setting several bags down on the floor by the wall.

   "So, I take it you aren't done yet."

   "Done what?"

   "Done deciding on colour schemes and layout. You know, the things I asked you to do when I left?" he reminded her snippily.

   "Oh, I finished that a long time ago," she said tiredly. "Then I taught myself to play Solitaire with these paint card thingies."

   "Paint _swatches_, thank-you very much."

She rubbed her eyes beneath her glasses, grumbling about everything in the universe as she did so.

   "Right, right, paint _swatches_. When did you turn gay, anyway?"

   "I am not gay! I just know the beauty of a well-designed, well-decorated work space."

   "So, you're gay. Same thing," she shrugged.

   "I am not!" he exclaimed in something remarkably close to a whine.

   "Whatever," she said, waving the matter away impatiently. "So, where did you disappear to?"

   "I was fabric shopping," he admitted reluctantly.

She stared at him for a long moment, and then fell from her chair to the ground in a fit of helpless laughter.

   "Oh, no, you're not gay at all," she gasped, wiping away tears of mirth.

   "I'm not!"

   "No, you're just effeminate," she agreed, pulling herself from the floor with great difficulty.

   "I hate you," he informed her coldly.

   "Don't worry; I hate you, too," she grinned. "Aren't villains supposed to hate each other, anyway?"

He heaved a sigh of annoyance, pulling a few purchases from one bag.

   "I get the feeling that you're still not taking this seriously."

She raised an eyebrow.

   "You're holding an armful of dark purple velvet, and you're talking about taking things more seriously?"

   "Ah! This will be your window treatment."

Lucca, who had chosen this unlucky moment to try her luck with the dubious contents of her coffee mug, choked on the bitter, cold liquid, and began coughing and sputtering uncontrollably.

   "Window treatments?!" she gasped between coughs. "I didn't know you were _this_ far-gone!"

   "Hey, you try having the kind of free time I've had since we defeated Lavos!"

   "So…your 'show'," Lucca began slowly once she could breathe again. "Is it on the Home and Garden channel, by any chance?"

   "None of your business," Magus shot back defensively, tossing the velvet at her.

   "It is," she sighed with mock sadness, her words muffled slightly by the mass of purple material draped over her head. "I'll bet it's Martha Stewart Living."

   "It is not! I can't stand that woman!"

   "Hey, you've got to admit," Lucca shrugged, struggling her way out of the sea of velvet. "She personifies true evil."

   "Hmph. Perhaps you could consider obliterating her as a nefarious scheme sometime down the road."

   "Wouldn't that fall under the title of public service?" Lucca wondered, scratching her head.

   "Never mind. What do you think of the material?"

   "It's very purple," she replied carefully.

   "Of course it is. It's your trademark colour."

   "But…purple? And hey, wasn't I deciding on the colour scheme?"

   "Yes, but if you've truly learned anything, you'll have chosen dark colours, and the purple will blend beautifully."

   "What if I'd picked red, huh?" she demanded smugly.

   "Then we'd alter it to a deep wine red, and purple can look quite striking and elegant with deep red."

    "You have no idea how much you are scaring me right now, Magus," Lucca said solemnly, backing surreptitiously toward the door, preparing to bolt. "Window treatments?! Seriously! And for that matter, where am I going to have windows in an underground lair?"

   "Your workspace will not be underground. I have a suitable tower set aside for you."

   "But…how do I put a bottomless pit in a tower without disrupting the rooms under my lair?"

   "The entire tower will be yours to do with as you wish, of course," he said unconcernedly. 

   "Gee, thanks," she said dubiously. "That's really generous, but it's not necessary. I mean, I don't think I'll need a whole tower. All I really need is room for my drafting table and a fairly big space for construction. For that matter, why do I even _need_ a bottomless pit?"

Magus looked aghast.

   "A bottomless pit is the one thing no villain can afford to be without!"

   "Yeah; I have chilling memories of yours. Of course, it had a bottom. And a bunch of damn Save Points," she grumbled. Then she stopped and frowned. "Hold on; you told me before that a cape was the one thing no villain could afford to be without."

   "Yes, the one accessory no villain can afford to be without," Magus said patiently. "The bottomless pit is the one instrument of torture no villain can afford to be without. Personally, I think you ought to invest in a full collection of instruments of torture, but of course, you know best, even though I've been in this business far longer," he finished sarcastically.

   "Well, I'm not really planning on inviting the heroes back to my evil lair for tea, you know."

   "And what do you expect to do when they try to break in?"

   "I'll sic my robots on 'em! What else?"

   "You're still set on those robots, are you?"

   "For the last time, I am _not_ going with cat-people!"

   "No one said you had to use cat-people," Magus assured her innocently.

She glared suspiciously at him, arms crossed.

   "I'm also not using wolf-people, shark-people, bear-people, vulture-people, or mimes!"

Magus looked vaguely disappointed.

   "You won't even give the mimes another thought? They do have enormous potential for evil…"

   "Yeah, so does Martha Stewart, but you don't see me using clones of her as my evil minions," Lucca said dryly.

Magus' brow creased as he considered this.

   "You know-"

   "I'm not using clones of Martha Stewart!" Lucca hastened to interrupt.

   "Fine," he huffed. "Now, come on. I'll show you to your tower of darkest iniquity."

   "Hey, hey, hey! Don't make it sound like a brothel! It'll look enough like one, with the velvet curtains," she finished, eyeing the load of fabric loathingly.

   "What do you mean? It'll add a touch of elegance!"

   "Because, of course, what could be more elegant that a drafting table and a mecha-building space?" she murmured. "The velvet will compliment the blueprints pinned up all over the walls perfectly."

   "Will you quit complaining?"

   "Y'know," she said thoughtfully, leaning against the bookcase nearest to the door. "It suddenly hits me that I don't know what else I'm doing in this place. I mean, I've got curtains, a drafting table, and lots of empty space for a work area, right? But I get this feeling that it's not going to be that easy."

   "Why do you get that feeling?" he asked with a smirk, leaning up against the bookshelf next to her.

   "What _is_ that easy with you?"

He chuckled.

   "Well, in any case, you're right. Empty workspace aside, we'll definitely have to do something else with all that space. What I'm thinking-"

   "Hey, isn't this _my_ room to plan?"

Rolling his eyes, he turned to her.

   "Have you got any ideas?"

   "Nope, not a one," she replied cheerfully, grinning up at him. "The only swatches I picked out were the red one and the black one."

   "I thought as much," he grumbled. "Completely ignoring the wide range of hues in both colours. Alright, then. I think we'll go with furniture in a deep wine red."

   "What furniture?" she asked suspiciously.

   "Just a few simple pieces," he assured her. "A couch, perhaps an armchair or two, a few simple cushioned chairs, a coffee table in the middle – maybe in a rich mahogany or something similar – and two little side tables. We'll be able to forego lamps, since we'll have torches. But you'll want to put up a curtain to divide your work area from your rest area."

   "Hold on; I hope you're not getting the impression that I'm spending all my time here."

   "Of course not," he scoffed. "Why would I inflict that upon myself?"

   "Then why bother spending a bunch of money decorating? Why bother, even if I _was _going to be here a lot?"

   "What, are you planning to sit on the floor during your lunch breaks?"

She blinked in confusion.

   "Lunch…break? What is this 'lunch break'?"

   "Oh, right. We're talking about the girl who goes for eight hours straight without stopping for coffee every now and again, let alone bothering to check a clock. Let alone bothering to look up once in a while."

   "Hey, you've gotta admit," she grinned up at him, "it's an effective way to work. I get tons more done than people who spend all day glued to the clock."

   "That's not the point. The point is, you cannot have an evil lair, furnished only with a drafting table and a few sconces."

   "Of course not," she agreed. "The sconces are unnecessary. I have a lamp."

   "And where are you going to plug it in?"

   "I'll put in some wiring."

   "No, you will not!" Magus shot back, alarmed. "There is no way I'm letting you run wires throughout the walls of my home, just because you have something against a little touch of elegance!"

   "But putting torches, or sconces, or whatever they are, up on a wall that's going to hold all my blueprints – my _paper_ blueprints, by the way – seems a little dangerous. I know you don't want wiring, but would you rather have your entire tower catch fire?"

   "If I let you do the wiring, the two might not be mutually exclusive."

   "I'm going to ignore that," Lucca said airily, "because I know you couldn't wire a room to save your life."

   "Which has surprisingly little impact on my life."

   "You're so boring!"

He smirked.

   "I'm not as boring as an army of evil robots."

   "Hey, leave my guys alone!"

   "Don't worry; I've said all I want to say on the topic of your love life."

Lucca pushed decisively away from the wall at that.   

   "Y'know what? Those robots probably have a lot more personality than you. They're probably better company, too. So if you're going to keep acting like this, I'm just going to go home and spend some time with them."

   "Who's stopping you?"

She sputtered furiously for a moment.

   "Well…fine!"

With that, she wheeled about grandly, her cape billowing out dramatically behind her, and stalked from the room. The sound of footsteps grew gradually softer.

Magus smirked again, eyeing a small object that lay on the table.

Seconds later, the sound of footsteps began to grow louder again, and Lucca reappeared in the doorway.

   "I forgot my book," she explained sulkily, crossing the room and snatching her copy of How to Be an Evil Villain in 12 Easy Steps from the table.

   "Now that your plan of leaving in a huff has failed utterly, how about we start drawing up some design sketches for the layout of your lair?" Magus suggested.

Lucca was silent for a moment, considering this. The bastard was trying to distract her from his infuriating words and actions, with the promise of interior decorating! Interior decorating! As if she had any interest in interior decorating! If a more tedious pastime existed – aside from shoe-shopping – she didn't even want to know about it. Interior bloody decorating! Well, to an insult like this, there was only one possible answer.

   "Yeah, okay," she agreed with a shrug.

Then she sighed. She'd really have to get around to checking out what had happened to the connection between her brain and her mouth one of these days.

---------------------------------------------------------

   "You know, Magus," Lucca called back to the rather miffed sorcerer standing behind her, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, "I had my doubts about this place, but I've gotta say, you really knew what you were talking about! It's a little hard to see at night time with just these sconce thingies, but the extra elbow room is fantastic!"

The candles contained in the "sconce thingies" had long since burned low during the seven hours for which Lucca had been hard at work on massive blueprints of her evil robot armies and mechas spread out over the floor, nearly to scale. This period of nearly uninterrupted work had all but restored her mood after the process of decorating, during which she had prayed more than once for the world to end.

While helping Lucca to recover from her less than efficient state of thinking, these seven hours were a large part of what lead to Magus' being rather miffed, although the robot diagrams and mecha diagrams didn't help. He couldn't make heads or tails of what they were, how they would work, or what good they were, and Magus was very much the type who dismissed or condemned what he couldn't understand. This, he would have hastened to tell anyone who had asked, wasn't much.

To merely add to Magus' annoyance with the world in general, he had quickly found that a shadowy, secluded tower lit by candles, a starry night sky, and plans of widespread destruction had a very different effect on Lucca than such a romantic atmosphere should have on any woman. While these factors gave him the urge to focus his attention unwaveringly on his lovely protégé, that same lovely protégé seemed, if the past seven hours were any indication, to be little inclined to focus her attention on anything aside from her work.

   "Funny," he grumbled. "I'm beginning to have second thoughts about it."

   "And once I get some of my supplies," she continued on cheerfully, seeming to have not even heard him, although whether this was the case or whether she was simply ignoring him was anybody's guess, "I'm sure things'll go even better!"

   "So," Magus began slowly, uncrossing his arms and starting forward, "you've managed to spend seven hours on the construction of your little toys—"

   "Little?! Each robot is eight feet tall, and each mecha is twenty feet!"

   "Fine, then. Your big toys. And you've spent seven hours on them, without any supplies?"

   "What can I say?" she murmured absently, carefully measuring an angle with what would have been a normal protractor, if not for all the little extra parts sticking out, attached to springs. "I'm amazing."

   "You certainly play up the stereotype of the mad scientist to perfection," he noted thoughtfully, eyeing the overly complex protractor as he drew closer.

Suddenly, she stopped short and turned slowly. She sent Magus, who was now leaning over her shoulder, a suspicious look.

   "Hey, you weren't planning on grabbing me and kissing me until I was too distracted to know which end was up, let alone to work on my blueprints anymore, were you?"

   "No," he assured her far too innocently, inwardly demanding of the universe in general how on earth women caught onto these things. "Where would you get an idea like that?"

She smirked up at him, eyes alight with humour.

   "Come on, Magus. I've been in Rhianwen-fics before. They follow a certain…what's the nice word? Pattern."

   "Well, the 'pattern' ends right now."

   "Oh," she said rather flatly. "Well, good. While I wouldn't object to a torrid love affair as a concept, I really don't want to make mad, passionate love on top of my blueprints. Problem of paper cuts aside, the pencil might smudge."

   "My, my," he groused. "You really know how to kill a mood, don't you?"

She frowned sternly at him over the tops of her glasses.

   "What mood? I thought you _weren't _planning that."

   "Of course not," he said rather nastily, stalking over to the couch at the other end of the tower, separated from the workspace by a heavy black curtain that was, just then, drawn back.

   "Like I said, I don't have anything against the idea in principle," she said, hopping briskly from the freezing stone floor and joining him on the couch. "Like, if it started raining buckets and a huge thunderstorm started, and I couldn't get home, well, we'd have a set-up right there."

It is likely that Lucca would have continued, being Lucca and thus none too economical with her words, had a brilliant flash of lightning not lit up the tower from the four small, high windows facing each direction, joined nearly simultaneously by a massive clap of thunder. Seconds later, the repeated thud of heavy raindrops striking the windowpanes filled the air.

Magus looked up at the windows, rain streaming down them. Then he looked down at Lucca. Then he smiled a rather evil smile.

   "Not bad, hmm?"

   "Oh, come on," Lucca scoffed. "Don't even try to pretend that you're responsible for this. You cannot control the weather. It was just lucky timing. Really, really lucky timing," she finished under her breath.

   "Of…course it was," Magus said soothingly, with the air of one allowing a very small child to keep believing in Santa Claus, simply because it will make them happy. "Actually, the weather around here does this a lot. All the time, to be more precise."

Lucca rolled her eyes good-naturedly. Then the two proceeded to sit in an uncomfortable silence for several minutes, simply listening to the howl of the unsettlingly sudden wind around the tower and the periodic claps of thunder.

   "So…" Lucca finally began.

   "So?" Magus prompted.

   "It's probably a bad idea to fight a pattern this well-established. You…wanna go take advantage of the set-up?"

Magus considered this for a long moment.

   "Well, there are matters to consider. Decency, for example."

   "Wait a second," Lucca requested, holding up a finger as she flipped through 12 Easy Steps. "As villains, don't we flout decency with all the glee and defiance we can muster?"

_You did that before you took up the business,_ Magus wisely did not say.

   "I think you're right," he did say thoughtfully, uncrossing his arms and sitting slightly more bolt-upright than he had already been. "But villains don't necessarily break vows made to others that they care about."

   "Well, I haven't got any of those to worry about," Lucca said ominously, glaring viciously at him. "How about you, Magus? Have you got a wife hiding somewhere around here?"

   "Not a living one," he replied carelessly.

   "Ah," she laughed. "Bluebeard's chamber. Or I guess, Bluehair's chamber. Well, as long as they stay dead, I don't think they're an issue here."

   "I don't think we'll have to worry. So…"

   "So?" she prompted.

   "Can you think of any other good reasons against it?"

She grinned.

   "How about I think about it on the way down to the room you're letting me use for the night?"

-----------------------------------------------------------

End Notes: Hoo boy, what the heck just happened? I guess this is the result of not giving my characters a plot: they get bored and screw like bunnies. Or…did they?

[Sigh]

Yeah, probably, unless I can think of a really good way out of it.

Oh, well. I think this is a redeemable set-back. Despite the fact that characterization got sacrificed to 'shippiness yet again. I think I've been watching too many action movies. That always happens, doesn't it? No matter what the established characterizations are, the main characters always end up going at it, and usually during the worst possible moment. "The volcano's erupting! You know what this means! Time to get me some!"

Ahem. Anyway, I hope you can forgive this random hook-up enough to keep reading. I promise, we'll get a plot next chapter.


	8. Things Are Looking Up!

Chapter 8

* * *

It was a bright, mild, beautifully sunny morning, an indefinable freshness lingering in the air after the thunderstorms of the previous night. The scent of fresh flowers wafted through the air, filling everyone who happened to be out and about with an undeniable sense of joy at merely being alive to appreciate such a morning.

That was outside.

Within the dark, foreboding stone walls of Magus' castle, conditions were less jolly and sunshiny. Indeed, one might even say that they were decidedly icy, tense, and uncomfortable.

Lucca stole a careful glance at Magus over the top of her coffee cup when she was fairly certain that he wouldn't be looking at her. Even something as small as letting him see her looking at him might set him off right now…

"What?" he snapped.

She sighed. Apparently, she hadn't been careful enough.

"Nothing," she replied hastily, taking another sip of coffee.

He rolled his eyes and made a disgusted face.

Patience expired, Lucca slammed her coffee cup down on the table.

"It's not my fault, okay?! The damn zipper got stuck!"

Despite his obvious annoyance, Magus smirked wickedly.

"I'm sure I could have gotten them off of you another way."

She gave him a foreboding glare.

"I spent four hundred gold pieces on those stupid pants," she pointed out. "There's _no way in Hell_ I'm letting you decimate them by ripping them off of me, just because you haven't touched a woman in…how old are you again?"

"That is not true," he growled.

"I already told you, Flea doesn't count as a woman," Lucca said boredly.

"Stop that!"

"Hey, at least we've got a dialogue going. That's a start."

"Hmph. Well, what now?"

Lucca glanced from side to side uncomfortably.

"You…uh…got a stitch-ripper around here?"

Magus frowned.

"A stitch ripper would be…?"

"A little doo-hickey used to remove stitches from sewn clothing? Most likely to be used when you sew a seam in the wrong place, or when it comes out crooked or something," she replied, annoyed.

"Oh. The little hook thing?"

"Yes, Magus. The 'little hook thing'. So you have one?"

"I think so. Why?"

Her cheeks reddened slightly.

"I'll need to borrow it."

"Why?" he asked, honestly bewildered.

"Well…to get out of my pants. Call of nature, you know…"

"Oh, so _you_ can rip them, but I can't," he scoffed, crossing his arms.

"I'm not planning on ripping them! I'm taking them apart at the seams, at which point I will take them home and ask Mom to sew them back up for me. What?" she finished suspiciously as a devious smirk crept onto Magus' face.

"If you're using the stitch ripper to get out of your pants, that means you'll be out of them."

She laughed.

"Very good, Magus. Brilliant deduction."

"I thought you were supposed to be the smart one," he groused. "That also means that we'll be able to…continue what we started last night."

"You mean, my supplies are here?!" she asked excitedly. "Cool!"

"Your supplies are not here," he bit out. "But. You will be out of your pants, which may aid in _something else_ that we started last night. Do I have to draw you a diagram?"

Lucca pondered this carefully.

"No, thanks. I somehow get the feeling you can't draw, and if I see your take on what we look like naked, it would probably get me immediately out of the mood."

"Oh, so you've figured it out."

"Yeah, I knew what you were talking about right away," Lucca said easily. "It's just so much fun to tick you off."

"Fun for you, maybe."

"That's the important thing," she informed him airily.

"Oh, shut up," he grumbled, rising from the table. "I'll go find the stitch ripper."

As he departed from the room, Lucca grinned widely.

"Things are lookin' up!"

* * *

"You know, something just occurred to me," Lucca said slowly several hours later, drawing the bed sheet up over sweat-drenched skin starting to cool in the chill air of the room.

Propping himself up on one arm, Magus watched her curiously.

"Go on," he prompted.

"I don't have any pants to wear home now."

Magus rolled his eyes, and then opened his mouth to tell Lucca that she was a stupid idiot, a needless worrier, a big cootie-head, and all those other nice things that little boys say to little girls when they're trying to pretend they don't like them, despite the fact that he had made his 'liking' of her fairly clear; after all, Magus had something of a nasty tendency to miss a step occasionally.

Then, as his expression changed to one of deep consideration, he flopped back to the sheets, and moments later, after having a narrow escape involving a fly and his gaping-open mouth, he shut it.

Several more moments later, he turned to Lucca again.

"You make a definite point. Ordinarily, in this situation, I would just suggest that you go directly home, and very quickly, but dammit, no one else is going to see _my_…uh…student without her pants!"

She delivered a death-glare even more effective for lack of her glasses.

"And just how _many_ of your 'students' have you taken to bed?" she demanded hotly.

"All of them," he replied carelessly.

Then, just as he had begun to see his life flashing before his eyes in the face of wrath of woman finally told the _truth_ about this sort of rather important thing, he continued with a smirk.

"After all, you're the first student I've ever taken, and I've clearly taken you to bed."

After one more suspicious glare, Lucca put down the pillow she had been brandishing in a manner that made the sheet slip away from her upper half and thus distracted her illustrious mentor quite effectively.

"Geez, Magus, as I recall it, I was the one dragging _you_ off to the sack," she cackled, grinning wickedly as she snuggled into the pillow and dragged the sheet back up.

"Yeah; after I forcibly removed your pants, which are now in several pieces."

"Oh, you say it like it was an accomplishment! If you hadn't found the stitch-ripper, I'd still be stuck in those damn things, doing the frantic gotta-potty dance."

"You know, Lucca," Magus said pointedly, "it takes a lot to kill the libido of a man when there's a naked woman in bed right next to him. Still, a comment like that will just about do it."

"Just about?" she repeated, grinning.

He returned her grin with one of his own, only slightly more predatory, and then, in one quick motion, flipped her back down to the mattress, pinning her by her shoulders.

"Just about."

* * *

Meanwhile, in a dark cave somewhere else entirely, two shadowy figures pored over a delivery report that the shadowy figure clearly of lower rank, if the lesser degree of menace in his shadowiness was any indication, had stolen upon being ordered to do so by the shadowy figure of higher rank and greater menace.

Finally, after several moments of perplexed silence, the lesser shadowy figure turned to the greater shadowy figure in the light of the flickering torches on the walls.

"Whaddaya think this means?"

The greater shadowy figure, a tall, imposing shape, face obscured by a long black cloak, presumably glared.

"I might be able to figure it out, if you'd shut up and let me think about it."

"Sorry," the lesser shadowy figure, a smaller shape with face similarly obscured, muttered contritely. "I guess I thought three hours was enough to think about it."

The presumed glare fixed on him intensified. There was just _something_ in his boss' posture that suggested that he was supposed to feel thoroughly chastened.

"So, are you tired of living or something?"

"No," he whimpered, shrinking back.

"Then shut up."

"Okay."

"That's not shutting up."

"Sorry."

"Neither is that."

"…"

"Better."

"Thanks."

"You're really not getting the hang of this."

"…"

"Are you?"

"…"

"Ah, you've learned."

With that, the greater shadowy figure fell silent, leaning forward on the rough wooden table and trying to figure out if he had heard this name before. Certainly, the supplies this person had ordered spoke of them being no ordinary citizen. Seven tonnes of high-quality, light, durable metal, and several other items that he had never heard of and would have been hard-pressed to pronounce (not being a very technical-minded shadowy figure)! What could this Lucca Ashtear be up to?

"Um…"

He turned to presumably glare again at the lesser shadowy figure, who had just piped up nervously.

"What?"

"Does that address seem familiar to you?"

"Hmm…Magus' Fortress. Yeah, I think I've heard of it. Didn't it belong to someone named…uh…oh, geez, the name's on the tip of my tongue!"

The lesser shadowy figure said nothing. He would never have claimed to be particularly bright, but he was smart enough to know that pointing out something so obvious, when his boss had so effectively missed it, would probably result in his wanting for his head. So, instead of working towards his own decapitation, he simply looked nervously down at his fingers, currently twisting themselves into knots.

"Ah!"

The lesser shadowy figure jumped at this abrupt shout from his boss.

"Uh, something wrong?" he ventured timidly.

The greater shadowy figure glared at him.

"Of course not! I just remembered who lived there that I've heard of! Do you remember that Ozzie fellow? Big, green, smelly—"

"That's your grandmother," the lesser shadowy figure said helpfully.

"Shut up! I meant the _other_ big, smelly, green creature we know!"

The lesser shadowy figure looked blank for a moment, and then his expression brightened, nearly lighting up the cave.

"Oh, right! Ozzie!"

"Yeah. He lived in Magus' Fortress with that Slash guy and that Flea chick!"

"Uh, Flea was a guy…"

The greater shadowy figure stared.

"Stop spouting your nonsense!"

"It's not nonsense, boss. I was as surprised as anyone else, believe me. Let's just say I will never, ever, EVER drill a hole in a girl's dressing room again."

"Uh, right. Hey, who did those three work for? They all lived together in Magus' Fortress, and they worked for someone named…uh…damn! I can't remember! It was, like, Margot, or Maggie, or Mavis, or something like that."

"Could…could it have been Magus?" the lesser shadowy figure suggested hesitantly. It might mean his life, yeah, but this could otherwise take hours!

"Yeah! That's it! Good memory! I'll think about reducing the number of lashes you'll get for your next cock-up."

"Uh…thanks," the lesser shadowy figure said, blinking in bewilderment and resisting the urge to scratch his head in the same. Damn, but he worked for the most unpredictable man in creation!

"Magus, eh?" the greater shadowy figure cackled. "I wonder what that old boy could be up to. Last I heard, he had gotten into heroing."

"Such a tragedy," the lesser shadowy figure sighed.

"But these deliveries make me wonder…unless he's building some sort of crime-fighting fortress, which frankly doesn't seem like him, this could very well mean he's back."

"Magus is one of us again?!" the lesser shadowy figure gasped, eyes wide, shiny, and adoring, and hands clasped.

"But the deliveries weren't in his name. I wonder who this Lucca fellow is…"

He pondered this for a moment, a hand to his chin, before his head snapped back up.

"Go use the Viewing Portal of Mysterious and Unexplained But Likely Mystical Origin to a good, clear view of that fortress! Then come back here and give me a full report. I want to know exactly what he's up to."

"Right away, sir," the lesser shadowy figure agreed, scuttling away.

His minion gone, the greater shadowy figure passed the moments the way all great evil masterminds do: he pulled a deck of cards from the front pocket of his long, black robe and began a game.

"Black seven on the red eight," he was muttering, when he heard the footfall of his underling returning.

He hastily snatched up the cards and tucked them away. Then he began drumming his fingers together and laughing a laugh of studied evil glee.

"This could very well mean…the end of all life as we know it! Brought about by us! Muahahahahaha!"

"Uh, sir?" the lesser shadowy figure called as he stepped back into the room of the surprisingly large cave where his master sat, rocking back and forth on the back legs of his chair, drumming his fingers and plotting.

The greater evil mastermind looked up, manufacturing as much surprise as though he had actually been surprised. He frowned.

"You look a little green. What did you find?"

"Well…first of all, this Lucca Ashtear is a woman."

"Alright…"

"And…uh…you remember when I said I was never gonna drill a hole in a woman's dressing room ever again? Well, I'm also never gonna spy on someone in their bedroom ever again. I got a really, really graphic look into Magus' love-life."

"A woman," the greater shadowy figure muttered. "Young?"

"Yes."

"It seems," he said, eyes glinting sinisterly in the light that had been carefully set just for that purpose, "that Magus has taken on an apprentice."

"How do you figure?" the lesser shadowy figure asked, a frown creasing his brow.

The greater shadowy figure made an impatient noise.

"Oh, come on. Whenever a villain takes a cute young woman as an apprentice, he always sleeps with her. It's, like, an established rule. And let's face it: how else could _Magus _get a chick?"

"Heh-heh-heh…I want to take a cute young woman as an apprentice now," the lesser shadowy figure confided.

"Yeah; me, too," the greater shadowy figure agreed.

The two of them laughed crudely for a moment over this, before the greater shadowy figure sobered.

"Alright, alright. Just…go keep an eye on them. Let me know when the delivery gets there, and then give a full report on what they're doing."

"Of course, my lord."

The greater shadowy figure frowned, watching the lesser shadowy figure go with an expression of deep consideration.

"Hey," he called as the other man reached the door.

"Yeah?"

"Just for the record, I like 'my lord' much better than 'boss'. 'Sir' is good, too, but 'my lord' is my favourite."

"Uh…sure."

* * *

End Notes: Another Vaguely Lacklustre Chapter from Rhianwen! Dance for joy! Or…just mill about indifferently. Whichever. :o)

Anyway, I rather like my Shadowy Figures of Greater and Lesser Shadowy Menace, even if they're walking clichés and none too bright. And I hope it wasn't as annoying reading "lesser shadowy figure" and "greater shadowy figure" over and over as it was typing it. :o)

On the bright side, I think we're nearing The Plot again. Yaay!

Oh, well. Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought if you've got a second or three. :o)


	9. Did Her Dad Know She Could Do That?

Chapter 9

* * *

"CRONO!!!!!!!!!!"

Crono looked up abruptly in the direction of this howl of his name in a distinctly female, distinctly Marle-like voice.

As he noted the blonde-haired fury hurling itself across their Top Secret Superhero Lair (located deep below the dungeons of Guardia Castle, where it would remain free from the prying eyes of men and beasts, if one really saw such a difference between these two esteemed and goodly classes) and at him, he noted curiously that he had had several dreams begin this way, and wondered idly if this would be a ­_good_ dream, or a _bad _dream.

All wondering came to an end as, seconds later, he braced for impact, caught Marle easily, and set her down on the floor again.

"Crono!" she exclaimed again, slightly calmer this time. "Munkustrap and Victoria are here again!"

Crono rolled his eyes in irritation.

Marle giggled.

"Yeah, I know how you feel; I'm getting a little tired of them, too. Especially Munkustrap. Victoria's kinda cute, and anyway, she just sort of bats at tassels and wraps her legs around her head, but Munkustrap's a huge know-it-all! You believe a guy when he tells you that he's your official source of information in the grand struggle of Good and Evil, and he lets it go to his head!"

Crono blinked several times, then made a motion for Marle to continue.

Now Marle blinked several times, trying to nudge her train of thought back onto the tracks.

"Oh, right! I think Magus and Lucca are up to something! Apparently, back in the past, there have been children piloting strange robotic exoskeletons, stalking someone who may or may not be name John Fogerty, and who may or may not have written a song that may or may not be called 'Bad Moon Rising'."

Crono sighed, shaking his head. _Back in the past_, he thought. _Marle's__ not one for a lot of detail, is she?_

Marle patted his shoulder sympathetically, utterly misunderstanding his dismay, as they moved to their Top Secret Superhero Sofa, vaguely resembling a very _long_ egg with a section cut out to accommodate the cushions of deep blue.

Marle frowned as they sat.

"So, what's with the egg sofa, anyway?"

Crono shrugged somewhat defensively. If Marle couldn't understand his decorating taste, _he _wasn't going to explain it to her! She'd already gotten her way about creating this ridiculous hideout, with all these machines that neither of them knew how to use and were mostly just rejects from Taban Ashtear's workshop and a few broken bits from Lucca's room that they had snagged on their last visit, and its concrete walls with tube lights stapled up to resemble the interior of a computer, and – oh, right; that had been _his_ idea.

Still, it was only fair compensation for the damn _spandex_ he'd been running around in for the last week since they'd last seen Lucca and Magus. It had been incredibly embarrassing to supervise the rebuilding of the partially demolished prison, wearing this bizarre get-up, complete with its cape, and had been even more so to show up to several important diplomatic meetings this way.

And the fact that Marle had done it, too, was scant consolation, since she hadn't seemed embarrassed at all.

At this point, Crono became aware that Marle was watching his curiously, somehow looking incredibly adorable in the dim green and blue light of the Top Secret Superhero Lair Located Deep Below the Dungeons of Guardia Castle Where it Would Remain Free From the Prying Eyes of Men and Beasts.

"Um, Crono? Are you okay? Your eyes got really glazed-looking, and your expression got really angry all of a sudden. Is something wrong?"

Crono shook his head innocently, and once again motioned for Marle to continue.

"Right! The kids with robotic exoskeletons stalking that person who may or may not be named John Fogerty and the writer of 'Bad Moon Rising'! Do you think Magus and Lucca have something to do with it?"

Crono hesitated for a moment. Would it be lying to simply say that yes, he was fairly certain that Magus and Lucca had _something_ to do with it instead of revealing that he had seen several massive boxes containing all sorts of strange things that he imagined were necessary for the construction of any _good_ robotic exoskeleton, being delivered to the Ashtear home earlier that week, only to be snuck away from the Ashtear home in the Epoch by two cloaked and bickering figures at a point in the week later than _then_, but earlier than _now_?

As Marle's expression grew curious again, Crono nodded agreeably that yes, he did suspect that Magus and Lucca were somehow behind this.

"I'm glad you think so, too, Crono," Marle proclaimed, bouncing from her seat and striking a dramatic pose. "But even yet, it is not too late to bring our fallen comrade, Lucca, back to the flock and reinstate her as the hero she was born to be!"

Crono gawked at the slim, pink-clad shape, one slim, pink-clad arm extended into the air triumphantly, and wondered helplessly if she'd been spending too much time with Glenn or something. Still, if he didn't want to be effectively cut off from the never-ending quest to produce an heir to the throne – along with lots and lots of practice – it would never do to be unsupportive of his wife.

Thus, Crono nodded as enthusiastically as if he'd meant it. He opened his mouth to ask exactly what the situation was, but in an uncanny show of the way that young couples often become able to read one another's minds, Marle hurried on.

"So, this is the situation: the kids in those robot thingies have been watching the guy who may or may not be named John Fogerty, but not really closely. We're not sure if this means that Magus and Lucca aren't seriously pursuing him yet, or if the kids they bribed into it with shiny things just aren't very good at stalking people. As far as we can tell, the man who might be Mr. Fogerty hasn't been seriously threatened yet."

The redheaded young man nodded thoughtfully. If Maybe-Fogerty hadn't been threatened yet, there might still be time to talk Lucca out of her nefarious – but weird – plot to rob the world of one of its greatest works of human achievement! But how to best contact Lucca…?

"What's worrying me," Marle spoke up suddenly, her chin in her hand, "is the best way to get in touch with Lucca."

_Uncanny_, Crono thought, staring at Marle in amazement.

"I think we should head straight to Magus' castle," Marle continued. "That's probably where they're working from. I doubt she'd be carrying out her evil plans from her mom and dad's place. Mr. Ashtear's pretty clueless, but I doubt even he'd miss something like _that_ going on."

_And Mrs. Ashtear's just plain scary when you cross her,_ Crono thought with an internal shudder.

"And," Marle added, grimacing, "Mrs. Ashtear would notice right away, and she's scary when you make her mad. Well, speaking of Mrs. Ashtear, I'm going to go see her and ask if she knows where Lucca's been. Maybe if we bring it up, she'll talk to Lucca about it."

With that, Marle turned, cape billowing out behind her, and scurried toward the elevator leading back up to ground level.

Crono watched her go, his expression still amazed.

"Did her dad _know_ she could do that?!"

* * *

"LUCCA!!!!!!!!!!"

The young woman turned, bewildered and annoyed at this shout in a high, light, feminine voice from the doorway of her bedroom where she was trying to enjoy a few nice, peaceful, Magus-free moments.

"Oh, hey, Marle," she greeted unenthusiastically, sliding from the stool in front of her drafting table. Sure, Marle wasn't as overall tiring as Magus was – here Lucca permitted herself an internal wolfish grin at the thought of her personal favourite way Magus had to tire her out – but she was tiring enough that Lucca simply didn't feel like being dragged into conversation right then, or into anything else but a nice, warm bed. With the intention of sleep, she hastily added silently before shaking herself off and continuing. "What's up?"

"Lucca," Marle began, striking a dramatic pose as several Guardian soldiers scampered into the room and began waving little paper fans to produce a breeze for their queen's cape to billow dramatically in. "Crono and I are aware of your evil scheme—"

"Of course you are," Lucca snickered, crossing her arms and leaning sideways against the wall, "We told you about it last week when we broke out of the dungeons."

"Stop interrupting, Lucca! I'm trying to be dramatic!" Marle whined, stomping her foot petulantly.

"It's not working," Lucca informed her kindly, surveying the girl's big, long-lashed bright green eyes, bouncy red-blonde ponytail, and predominantly pink superhero costume. "Let's face it, kid; we're both just too cute to be properly dramatic."

"It's a hard life," Marle said with a complacent glance over her shoulder at her reflection in the mirror bolted to the door.

Both girls sighed sighs that were only partly mournful. Then Marle seemed to remember something with a start.

"No! You will not distract me with witty dialogue and pretended camaraderie! Lucca, if you do not cease in your evil plot, Crono and I will be forced to do battle with you!"

"With the low budget in this story?" Lucca muttered, chin cupped in her hand in a decidedly impatient posture. "Not bloody likely. We might get some bad dialogue and a pillow-fight, but that's being optimistic."

Then she sighed.

"Look, Marle, it was nice to see you, but I'm tired. I've had a stressful week. I just want to take a nice, long shower and go to bed, okay?"

"Okay, fine," Marle huffed, turning on her heel and storming from the room. At the doorway, she turned. "But think long and hard about my words, Lucca, because sins must always be atoned for!"

"Someone's been bitten by the drama bug," Lucca reflected grimly as Marle swept grandly downstairs and then squealed giddily as Lara Ashtear offered her a cookie. "So, apparently the drama bug doesn't cure a sweet tooth. Oh, who cares? Time for bed," she concluded.

However, it seemed as though nothing could be that easy for the unfortunate Ms. Ashtear. Just as she was about to yank her shirt up over her head and cast it aside, she noticed something slightly amiss.

"Ack!" she shrieked, leaping back. "Why are there two mysterious faces peering in through my bedroom window?!"

"Oh, crap! You think she saw us?" the figure on the right yelped.

The figure on the left sighed and rolled its nearly obscured eyes.

"Yeah, I'd say she did."

"The boss is gonna kill us!"

"No, 'the boss' is gonna kill _you_," the other figure corrected. "I _am_ 'the boss', remember?"

"Oh, right," the shape on the right said cheerfully.

"Look, let's just get out of here before she tires of our witty dialogue and throws a shoe or something at us."

"And just when it was starting to get good! She almost took her shirt off!"

"A shoe?!" Lucca exclaimed after their retreating backs. "I'll have you know, I'm one of the most skilled gun-women in the world! I would not sink to hurling footwear when I've got my Wondershot stashed right by my bed!"

Then she frowned.

"Hold on; my room's on the second floor. How were they peeking in my window? Who else do I know who can do that? Oh, hey, Magus," she concluded absently as another figure appeared at her window.

"What are you doing?" he asked grumpily, climbing into her room as she lifted the window for him.

"I'm trying to figure out who those two men were just now."

"Men?" he asked, stiffening.

"Yeah; there were two guys peeking in my window just a second ago."

"I don't know," he said with a forced calm. "But whoever they are, they'll be dead very, very soon."

"Oh, can the caveman act," she requested, annoyed. "I'm just trying to figure out who could have sent them. I mean, who do I know who can levitate and makes a habit of doing so outside of peoples' bedroom windows?"

Magus gave a long, long-suffering sigh as he glanced at the window through which he had floated half a minute ago.

"You're obviously very tired. You should go to sleep immediately. We have a big day tomorrow, after all. If we work to our capabilities for the entire day, we'll be ready to put your plan into action by the end of the week."

"Yeah, I'll get to bed," Lucca assured him easily. "I just want to do a few minutes of gloating."

He permitted himself a quick, proud smile as her eyes narrowed and she began drumming her fingers together and murmuring her evil glee, and then turned, opened the window, and vaulted lightly over the sill and out.

* * *

End Notes: All my chapters are filler lately! Angry noises! What's going on?!

Ahem.

Please excuse that little outburst, and tell me what you thought of grumble yet another filler chapter. Geez…this is going to end up about thirty chapters if I don't get it moving soon. :o)


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